


Vices and Virtues

by jrenbar



Series: The Madmen of Baker Street. [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Bisexual John, Clueless Sherlock, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sure I'll add more as I go, John has secrets, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Pining, Smut, Snarky John, alternating pov, characters are probably off canon at times., eventual johnlock I promise., intelligent john, mycroft meddles about, not even mycroft knows them all, probably some fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrenbar/pseuds/jrenbar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to Highway to Hell. John is home from Afghanistan and is rather depressed about it until he meets one Sherlock Holmes. After being roped into helping with a case John feels more alive than ever. He admires his new flat mate and struggles to hide his growing feelings that just keep getting stronger even when confronted with all the vices of Sherlock. Sherlock sees nothing missing from his life at all until one John Watson enters the picture. He finds one of the most intelligent and intriguing normal people he has ever met and incidentally finds his first real friend. Sherlock begins to thaw out his heart that has gone unused for so long thanks to his virtuous new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Should I Stay or Should I go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so here is the promised first chapter of the prequel to Highway to Hell. This is how the two madmen of Baker Street meet and finally get together in my world. So just a note this first chapter is roughly a Study in Pink, now it follows the plot-line of the unaired pilot more so than the official "A study in Pink". If you haven't seen it it's really no big deal. The biggest differences is that Mycroft doesn't appear yet and they solve the case without tracking her phone. I have kind of done a mash up of the two versions with my own stuff thrown in. I really wanted to show John's sort of inner monologue, a bit of Sherlock's as well, about what he is thinking and feeling when they first meet. So most of the dialogue is shortened or changed entirely or merely hinted at. I really don't enjoy reading verbatim lines from the show myself but there are some rather important bits that couldn't be helped. Also don't get worried not every chapter is going to be strictly cases and will have a lot more domestic stuff. First meetings are important however so for that we start at the beginning!

            1. Should I stay or should I go?

 

 

John hated his cane. He hated the way people looked at him in public as he limped along. He especially hated the pitying stares. He frowned at an elderly lady who passed him in a hurried pace. Christ, even old ladies could move faster. He pulled his jacket tighter around him to keep out the slight chill in the air. God he missed the heat of the desert. He missed the thrill of life around him, men rushing about, going on missions, the intensity of patching men up while under fire.

            “John!” He heard a voice from behind him. He pretended to ignore the voice; he really didn’t want to talk. He was having a shit day and really just wanted to grab a coffee and head back to his depressing bedsit. “John Watson!” The voice called again.

            Sighing he turned around slowly finding a round man with glasses getting up from a park bench and walking his way. The man did look mildly familiar but John still couldn’t place his name.

            “It’s Mike, Mike Stamford.” The man introduced himself helpfully. John remembered now, he had tutored Mike for every chemistry class they had taken. The man had been hopeless, not to mention his inclination for the party scene that only made his studies worse. It was a wonder that he had even passed the program. He nodded politely at him making small talk and accepting the invitation to get coffee since that was actually what he was going to do when he was stopped.

            They sat at a park bench drinking their coffees while Mike asked him questions to which the answers really should be blaringly obvious. You knew I was in the army mate, John thought, you knew I had signed on for 5 years and am back 2 years early. You see me limping. Do you really need me to tell you I was shot? Christ he couldn’t deal with people. He used to be so good with people. I mean he was a doctor. Usually he had no problem being friendly and conversational. Ever since he had gotten back though it had been a struggle to deal with the mundane chitchat that people loved so much. He forced himself to reply civilly at least to all of Mike’s questions.

Eventually he got around to asking if John planned on staying in London. John didn’t exactly know how to answer that. He wanted to stay in London of course, more than anything, but he hadn’t quite figured out how to make it work just yet. He told Mike he couldn’t afford it. Then John saw a funny look in Mike’s eye. Oh this couldn’t be good. John remembered that look from his University days. Whenever Mike got that look it meant that John was about to be roped into doing something crazy.

 

 

 

John followed Mike through the hospital, his cane clanking down the corridor, mocking him. Mike wanted him to meet someone, and apparently it couldn’t wait. I really don’t know why I’m following him. I should have just told him no and went home, he thought. Mike finally stopped in front of a lab and looked at John with a mischievous smile before heading in. 

John followed looking around the room. High tech lab equipment lined one wall. There was a lab bench with beakers and microscopes.  
            “This is a bit different.” He commented before noticing a tall man leaning over a microscope intently. He had a dark curly mop of hair that he suspected had been artfully arranged to look well, like a mess. The man spoke up and in a deep voice asked to borrow Mike’s mobile to which Mike responded he left it in another coat. John narrowed his eyes at Mike. He knew that Mike’s mobile was in his trouser pocket, he had seen the man slip it in there not moments ago. Mike just smiled at him raising his eyebrows. John rolled his eyes and offered the strange curly headed man his mobile instead.

The man looked at him properly for the first time since he had walked in the room. He had a striking face, high cheekbones and startling eyes. So this was his plan! Mike was going to get an earful about this stunt. John cursed the day he had ever let him know that he was bisexual. John watched as the man looked briefly surprised and then accepted his mobile. He waited for the man to finish, staring daggers at Mike who was distinctly avoiding his gaze.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” The deep baritone voice addressed him.

 

And that was how he first met Sherlock Holmes. The man alarmed, intrigued and angered him all at once. John remembered staring in open-mouth shock at Sherlock’s spot on inferences about his life before being dismissed so Sherlock could go collect his riding crop. Riding crop???? What was that about? He had asked Mike about it who in turn had just shrugged his shoulders and laughed. John had glared one last time at him before he had left.

            Now he was in a cab on his way to this address that Sherlock had given him. He looked down at his mobile where he had made a note to himself of it. 221B Baker Street. He had no idea where that was. He looked out of the cab at the buildings. Wherever it was he probably couldn’t afford half the rent he decided. Luckily Sherlock had taken Mike’s interference as him just helping two friends find a flat mate. Which on the surface was true. Mike knew that Sherlock needed a flat mate just has he knew John did. John also knew that that was just one of his reasons however. Mike had a tendency to try to play matchmaker. He decided he would just meet this Sherlock and explain then leave. He shifted in his seat ignoring his gun pressing into his back where it was hidden under his jumper.

            Before he knew it the cab stopped and he hopped out after paying the driver. He walked towards the door that read 221B and hesitated. Did he really want to go in? He could just turn and walk the other way. This was bound to end in disaster.

            “Oh good Dr. Watson you’re here.” He turned and found Sherlock walking towards him.

            “This place looks nice, no wonder you need help with the rent.” John said eyeing the building hesitantly. He knew there was no way he could afford this, not with his army pension.

            “Well I am getting a discount, the landlady owes me a favor.” Sherlock explained with a wink before knocking on the door. John’s breath caught at the wink. “Her husband got himself sentenced to death for murder in Florida, and well I was able to help out.”

            “You stopped him from dying?” John asked eyes wide.

            “Oh no, I insured it.” Sherlock said with frightening smile. Christ! John thought, he really needed to get out of here.

            Right as he was about to make an excuse and leave the door opened revealing an elderly lady. She had a huge smile as she welcomed them inside and gestured upstairs to the prospective flat.

            John actually liked the flat quite a lot. It had a lot of potential. He wasn’t too sure about Sherlock at the moment though. The man was highly intelligent but also seemed slightly unhinged. John viewed the kitchen, which had an assortment of lab equipment and chemicals. The sitting room was no better he thought looking back at to where Sherlock stood looking at him.

            “Bit cluttered.” John said motioning around him.

            “Yes well, I can tidy up a bit.” Sherlock said with a huff as he scrambles around the room making a half-hearted attempt to tidy. John watches him until his eyes focus in on a skull that is resting on the mantelpiece.

            “Is that a real human skull?” he asks pointing his cane in its direction. Sherlock looked at it and smirked.

            “A friend of mine. Well, I say friend…” He answered cryptically moving to the window.

            John hobbled back into the sitting room and wondered why he hadn’t fled the flat yet. He should be really; no sane person would still be standing here. Sherlock was just too fascinating to leave just yet, even if he was a bit off kilter. Mrs. Hudson bustled in looking expectantly at him.

            “There is another bedroom upstairs, if you’ll be needing two.” She said with a smile to John. He raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sherlock who seemed to be ignoring them both.

            “Yea, we will need two.” He said slowly. Why would she assume?

            “Oh don’t worry, we’ve got all sorts around here. Mrs. Turner next door’s got married ones.” Mrs. Hudson chuckled before heading back downstairs. “How bout I bring up a nice cuppa for you two.” She said as she descended.

            John just looked back at Sherlock who was still staring out of the windows. He decided to just sit and wait until Sherlock decided to talk again. John looked over at the two chairs situated next to the fire and chose the overstuffed red one that had clearly seen better days.

            “So you’re an army doctor?” Sherlock asked looking over at him.

            “Yes.” John replied.

            “Seen a lot of injuries then? Violent deaths?”

            “Well, yes, comes with the territory. War and all.” John replied quirking an eyebrow at him curious where Sherlock was going with all this.

            “So a bit of trouble too, danger as well I bet.”

            “Again, comes with the territory so yes I have, quite a bit of it actually. Far more than any civilian. Some would even say too much.” John said watching Sherlock, who appeared to be trying to hold back a grin. Sherlock seemed like he was about to ask another question when they heard loud steps on the stairs. Someone was in a hurry. Not Mrs. Hudson then, John thought.

            A man of medium height barged in. He had graying hair and was dressed smartly. John noticed a badge and a gun at his hip, police then. He looked at the mans face properly, recognizing him from the papers. He was an inspector with Scotland Yard, John remembered seeing his picture in the paper a few days ago. The story had been about some linked suicide case but John couldn’t remember all the details.

            “What’s different?” Sherlock asked. Different about what John wondered.

            “You know how they don’t leave a note?” The inspector asked to which Sherlock just nodded, “Well this one did.” The man paused and looked over at John noticing him for the first time. He looked surprised and confused. He looked back at Sherlock with a questioning look.

            “New flat mate.” Sherlock supplied. This only seemed to confuse the poor inspector more.

            “Uh-huh, well will you come?” He asked impatiently.

            “I’ll be right behind you in a cab.” The inspector nodded and quickly rushed out the door. John watched him go thoroughly confused.

            “Want to see some more?” Sherlock asked bringing John’s focus back to him.

            “More what?” John replied exasperatedly rising from his seat.

            “Danger of course.” Sherlock smiled.

 

            And that was how he somehow ended up in a cab flying off to god knows where with Sherlock. John looked out the windows and then over at Sherlock.

            “Question?” Sherlock asked in a bored tone.

            “Yea uh… where exactly are we going?”

            “Crime scene thought that was obvious. Any more?”

            “Why?”

            “When the police force are out of their depth, which is almost always, they call me to come help.” Sherlock replied. John nodded and thought about that for a minute.

            “How did you know so much about me?” He finally asked.

            “I observed.”

            “You wanna expand on that.” John asked dryly.

            “Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Bart's, so army doctor. Obvious. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists: you've been abroad but not sunbathing. The limp's really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic: wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan: Afghanistan or Iraq.” Sherlock paused in his explanation taking John’s phone from his grasp, “Then there's your brother. Your phone—it's expensive, email enabled, MP3 player. But you're looking for a flat-share, you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then. Scratches—not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. The next bit's easy, you know it already.” He paused again showing the inscription on the back. “Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara: who's Clara? Three kisses says a romantic attachment. Expensive phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must've given it to him recently; this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble, then—six months on, and already he's giving it away? If she'd left _him_ , he would've kept it. People do, sentiment. But _no_ , he wanted rid of it—he left _her_. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation and you're not going to your brother for help? That says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you _don't_ like his drinking.” Sherlock finished handing the phone back.

            “How do you know about the drinking?” John finally got out.

            “Scuff marks around the edge of the power connection. Never see those marks on a sober man’s phone and you never see a drunk’s without them.”

            “My god that was bloody amazing!” John exclaimed. He was immensely glad he had stuck around; he hadn’t had been this entertained in a while. Sherlock looked over at him with a confused and slightly intrigued expression.

            “Hm. That’s new.” Sherlock commented. Before John could ask him what was new Sherlock asked, “Did I get anything wrong?”

            “Uh well, Harry is actually my sister. Harriet.” John said with a slight smile at Sherlock’s hiss of irritation.

            “There’s always something!” Sherlock says with a huff before turning to look out of the window again.

            “So what you just did, you do that for the police? As like a detective or something?” Sherlock looks back at him with an appreciation that John doesn’t understand.

            “A consulting detective, I invented the job. And when they allow me to, yes.”

 

 

 

            Sherlock was utterly confused by John Watson. When he had first met him in St. Bart’s he had thought he was just so simple and ordinary. When the doctor had questioned him on his deductions he had had a fire in his eyes that intrigued Sherlock. He really didn’t think the flat mate business would pan out but he hoped that John would show up anyway. There were secrets behind those eyes that begged a second glance.

            When he had met John at the flat he could tell that John was alternating between thinking him insane and thinking him the most fascinating thing in the world. Sherlock wanted to laugh at John’s playful sarcastic manner, which was a refreshing change from most people’s reaction to him.

When the doctor agreed to come to the crime scene it seemed that fascinating had won out, and Sherlock found he was rather pleased by that. In the cab when John had asked for him to explain his deductions he was worried that it would scare John off but there was no time like the preset to fully acquaint the doctor to his methods. Here John surprised him again with actually praising him. He had never gotten such a positive reaction. Sherlock continued to puzzle over John’s reaction until the cab stopped.

 

 

John watched as Sherlock sauntered over to the crime scene tape where a police officer was looking contemptuously at him.

“What are you doing here freak?” The woman sneered. John frowned at her question. That didn’t seem professional for a police officer.

“I was invited Sally.” Sherlock said coolly. He motioned for John to follow him under the police tape and snapped off some rather surprising and embarrassing deductions at the woman when she questioned who John was. As they neared the house the forensics guy, a bloke called Anderson, stopped Sherlock and was also exceedingly rude. John chuckled as Sherlock continued his earlier deductions insinuating an affair between Anderson and the police officer Sally. Clearly Sherlock was worse interacting with people than he was.

They finally made it into the building where the inspector from earlier was waiting for them.

“Oi! Who’s this?” He asked looking at John.

“He’s my assistant.” Sherlock replied smirking at John’s frown. Sherlock then disappeared into a room that was well let by large LED lights.

“Dr. John Watson.” He held a hand toward the inspector.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade.” He shook John’s hand. “How did he rope you into all this Dr. Watson?” he asked John suspiciously.

“Just call me John, and I honestly have no idea.” He chuckled following Sherlock.

He found Sherlock hunched over a woman clad from head to toe in pink. He seemed to be examining her jewelry John noted. Sherlock looked up when John entered, followed closely by Lestrade.

“John what do you think?” Sherlock asked.

“Of what Sherlock?”

“Well you’re a medical man so what do you think?” Sherlock gestured to the body.

“Well as a medical man, I think she’s been dead for a while Sherlock, thought you would have recognized it.” He shot back with a smirk. Sherlock, who was clearly trying not to smile again, gestured at the body once more. Sighing John looked back at the inspector for permission.

“Yea uh, go ahead.” Lestrade said still somewhat bemused by the situation.

John nodded and propped his cane up by the door before hobbling over to the body. He carefully hunched down and examined the victim.

“Asphyxiation, probably. Could be caused by passing out and choking on her own vomit. Some poisons can cause reactions like that.” He concluded looking up at Sherlock receiving a nod of approval.

Sherlock then began to rattle off detail after detail about the woman, where she was from, why she was in London etc etc. The list went on. John sat in amazement at him occasionally commenting on the brilliance. With every new compliment he gave Sherlock John noticed the detective preen a little more. John tried to keep up with how he made every deduction and soon just settled on listening to the what and not the why. John was amazed and awed by this brilliant man. John considered himself a smart man as well as observant. After his time in the military he had developed even greater skills. Sherlock’s brilliance however took things to a whole new level. Listening to him go was informative and entertaining. He watched Sherlock go from item to item explaining the importance until he fixated on the case. The woman’s suitcase apparently that couldn’t be found. In a flash Sherlock was out the door.

Rolling his eyes he hopped up from his crouched position and ran after Sherlock. He caught sight of him running down an alleyway outside and sprinted to catch up. After a few turns here and there John finally catches up to Sherlock. He finds him rummaging through rubbish bin throwing things about left and right.

“Uh Sherlock?” John asks dodging flying items. Sherlock pauses looking at John surprised.

“You followed.”

“Well you did say I was your assistant. Need help?” He asked. Sherlock looked across the street at another rubbish bin.

“Go search that bin over there for her case. It will be pink.” John nodded and walked to the other bin. He didn’t bother asking the details, he just did what he was told.

John carefully hoisted himself into the bin and then began to search for the missing case. He hadn’t been searching long when he moved a tarp and spotted something pink wedged against the side.

“Sherlock! I think I’ve got it.” He called pulling it over.

“Excellent! Nice work John!” John handed the case to Sherlock and then promptly hopped out of the bin. “Now back to Baker Street!” Sherlock said before turning on his heal and briskly walking toward a main road.

 

 

 

They had made it back to Baker Street where Sherlock searched the case for the woman’s mobile. He explained that if it wasn’t on her body, she didn’t have a purse and it wasn’t in her case so that meant potentially the killer had it. After that declaration Sherlock got her mobile number from Lestrade and they sent her mobile a message apparently to test that theory which seemed to be proven correct when they got a call from a blocked number not moments later. Sherlock had suggested dinner while they watched a street corner that Sherlock was convinced the killer would go by and because John was hungry he agreed.

Dinner, turns out translated to John eating while the owner of the restaurant made comments about this being a date and Sherlock ignoring everybody in favor of staring out of the window.

“So do you have a girlfriend?” John asked conversationally.

“Um, no. Not really my area.” Sherlock said with a frown not taking his eyes from the road.

“Oh, boyfriend then?” At this Sherlock looked at him with a hesitant and wary expression.

“John I uh- I consider myself married to my work. I don’t-“ Sherlock rushed out. John thought he looked a little panicked by this conversation.

“Sherlock it’s fine. It’s all fine. I don’t care about any of it.” He explained. Goodness Sherlock was jumpy about relationships. Sherlock relaxed and resumed looking out of the window.

“You seem to have misplaced your cane.” He said after a while. John looked about him and then realized he hadn’t been using it since they were at the crime scene.

“Bloody hell would you look at that!” He chuckled. Two hours with Sherlock Holmes and he had stopped limping. Sherlock then looked backed at him and smiled as well.

“Lestrade texted about it. Said he would hold it for you.” Sherlock smirked.

“Maybe I’ll tell him to chuck it.” He said as he took another bite of bread. “So why aren’t you eating again?”

“I don’t eat when I’m on a case. It slows me down.” Sherlock says dismissively. John frowns at this but before he can say anything Sherlock calls to Angelo saying something about a headless nun.

“Sherlock?”

“Don’t worry John, it’s code. Just stay here and watch.” He points across the street where a cab is parked. John watches as Sherlock splashes himself with wine and then is tossed outside by Angelo. Sherlock makes a big scene of pretending to be drunk as he meanders across the road.

When John sees the cabbie putting a collapsing Sherlock into the back of the cab he abandons his half eaten meal and rushes out of the door, despite Angelo’s protestations that it’s all an act. He runs after the cab at a break neck pace.

 

 

 

John watches from across the street as Sherlock talks with the cabbie in 221B. Luckily the neighbors that lived across the street seemed to be on vacation making it easy for John to sneak in and watch from the window. He called Scotland Yard asking for DI Lestrade explaining the situation.

John continued to watch with bated breath even after the cops showed up. He watched as Sherlock picked up a pill, the idiot, and raised it to his lips. John pulled his gun out and aimed at the cabbie. When it was clear that Sherlock intended to take the damn pill he fired and then promptly fled taking the stairs to the roof. He hopped to a roof a ways over before climbing down and running away from the scene. He needed to dispose of his gun before heading back to Baker Street. The police where sure to still be there when he got back and he couldn’t take the chance that one of them might notice something.

 

 

Sherlock sits at the back of an ambulance waiting for the police force to clear his flat of the dead body. His mind was still foggy from the sedative the Cabbie had injected him with. Lestrade came up to sit beside him.

“The shooter?” Sherlock asks.

“Not ours, cleared off before we got here.” Lestrade sighs running his hands through his hair. “Got nothing to go on really.” Sherlock snorts at him.

“Oh I don’t know about that.”

“Alright spill Sherlcok.” Lestrade demands.

“The bullet they just dug out of the wall is from a handgun. A kill shot like that over that distance from that sort of weapon, you're looking for a crack shot but not just a marksman, his hands mustn't have shaken at all so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger so obviously has a strong moral principle. You're looking for someone probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel...” At this point Sherlock spots John standing off to the side looking on everything with an expression of concern. “No, no. That’s not right. Forget all of that.” He amends.

“What?” Lestrade looks startled.

“I, uh my heads not clear yet and I can’t think straight. I’ll give you my statement tomorrow. Now if you’ll excuse me my new flat mate looks rather concerned.” Sherlock explains standing up. He whips the stupid shock blanket that the paramedic wouldn’t stop giving him off and walks slowly over to where John is standing.

“You alright mate?” John asks.

“You would know. Nice shot John.” Sherlock said quietly. “Where’s the gun?”

“I dropped it in the Thames.” John smiled at him. Sherlock just nodded.

“You ok? You did just kill a man.” Sherlock asks curious at John’s calm demeanor.

“The real question is are you? Most people wouldn’t want a killer for their flat mate.” John said with a grin.

“I think I’ll take my chances.” Sherlock grinned along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now a little bit of this will flood into the next chapter, Sherlock is going to explain some things that were left over from this case to John. So the importance of the message that the woman in pink left will not go ignored and Sherlock will get plenty more chances to be praised by John. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first taste of this. If there is any blatant errors that you see that make it hard to read please tell me! Occasionally I get a bit dyslexic and things get typed wrong. Things happen you know :) 
> 
> And yes John is bisexual and no Sherlock has not deduced this. How long do you think it will take him??


	2. Welcome to Mystery.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock right after the closing of their first case together, and the weeks following it. John settles in to Baker Street and becomes acquainted with some of Sherlocks habits. And after a few unexpected encounters both men take note of the rather aesthetically pleasing view that the other offers.

 

It was almost midnight when John and Sherlock made it back to 221B, Chinese takeaway in hand. The police had cleared off and Mrs. Hudson appeared to have gone to bed.

“Christ I’m tired. And Hungry.” John sighed falling onto the couch placing the bag of takeaway on the coffee table in front of him. “Remind me why we had to go to that particular shop again?”

“I explained it already John, you can always tell how good a Chinese place is by the bottom third of the door handle.” Sherlock huffs before sweeping into the kitchen.

John opens his mouth to ask another question but thinks better of it and settles for opening up the food. He grabs a plastic fork from the bag and begins to eat right from the container, to tired to get up and grab a plate. Sherlock returns and sits next to him handing him a glass of what appears to be whiskey. John raises his eyebrows at this.

“Long night. New flatmates. Finished a case. Pick one.” Sherlock shrugs and takes a sip of his own whiskey before pulling a bit of food over. They both eat in companionable silence for a while eagerly gobbling up the food in front of them. Sherlock steals a few pieces of John’s chicken, to which John retaliates by stealing a few of Sherlock’s vegetables. Finally, when John doesn’t think he can eat any more, he sits back and causally drinks the rest of his whiskey.

“That was good.” He sighs in satisfaction. “Do you mind if I just kip on the sofa tonight? I don’t much feel like heading back to my bedsit this late.”

“There is a bed upstairs, the apartment comes fully furnished.”

“Well that’s even better.” John grins. He stretches cracking his back. He spots the pink case from across the room. “Should probably take that case to Lestrade.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. I have to give a statement anyway.”

“Sherlock? You know the last woman the cabbie killed, the one in pink, what did her note mean?” John asked curiously.

“She was scratching out ‘Rachel’ before she died. Lestrade told me after the cabbie was shot that Rachel was the woman’s dead daughter.”

“Why does that matter? Why would she write that?” John asked confused.

“The woman wanted to lead us to her phone.”

“And how would her message of ‘Rachel’ do that?”

“When we arrived at the scene there was no phone about her person. Clearly she had one, that many lovers and the fact that she worked in the media practically ensured that she would have one and would have had it with her. So if it wasn’t on her body where was it? That was why I needed to find the case. I needed to make sure that the phone wasn’t there either. When we found the case and it too was missing the phone I knew that the killer must have it obviously. So then the ‘Rachel’ must be in reference to the phone. She knew the killer had her phone; in fact she probably planted it on him. Looking at the tag on her case you’ll notice it has her email address. She uses as site that is connected to her phone to do her business. Therefore I deduced that ‘Rachel’, stupid password really, was the password to her account. That would have allowed us to track the killer. That was what Lestrade and his team where attempting to do apparently. When I asked for her number so we could contact it, Lestrade thought it might be a lead and tried to find it himself. They hadn’t pieced together the importance of Rachel though so they were having a tough time of it. ”

“But how could she have known the killer would have just kept her phone? Bit risky for him to do that.”

“Yes it rather was. Luckily for us I had already figure out who we were looking for. The killer had to be someone who anyone would trust, someone who wouldn’t look out of place or conspicuous hunting in the middle of a crowd. Cabbie obviously. It is their job to do as such. Because we found her case relatively easy and the murder had happened not to long ago I knew that it was a strong possibility that the phone she planted on him was probably still unnoticed. That was when I decided to send it a message. If the killer had gotten rid of it then that text would have gone ignored, but because he still had it, he read it and panicked. ”

“And because of that message he waited at that street and that was how you knew it was him.”

“Yes.”

“Brilliant.” John said in awe.

“You say that a lot. Is that the only word you know?” Sherlock smiled quirking his eyebrow.

“Around you, apparently yes.” John chuckled. “Alright, it’s been a long day. I think I’m going to go crash.” He stood up and shuffled up the stairs. His new room was a decent size and smelled as if it had been just cleaned. The bed was already made up with a thick red quilt folded at the bottom. John smiled when he saw a note on the table.

_Tidied your room a bit and left you a blanket. Just this once only, not your housekeeper dear. –H_

John would have to remember to thank Mrs. Hudson properly tomorrow. After removing his outer clothing he fell exhaustedly into the bed and promptly fell asleep.

 

 

The next few weeks were a bit of an adjustment for John. He moved his paltry amount of things the morning after that first case and as Mrs. Hudson advised him to do, he made himself at home. After opening the fridge and finding nothing but petri dishes and eyeballs John dashed out to the store to do the shopping. By the time he got back Sherlock was home again and plucking on his violin.

John expected a hand with the food but he quickly found that he wouldn’t be getting one. He put the things away himself and ended up reorganizing a few cabinets completely. He wasn’t sure what system Sherlock used, if there was one, but he was not going to allow Sherlock to keep tea next to mold cultures any longer. John designated half the shelves for Sherlock’s random and rather strange items and the other half for actual food. He did the same for the fridge. He decided against asking about the mold in the cabinet and the toes in the freezer or any other bizarre item he came across. John had made that mistake with the eyeballs and after receiving a rather long winded explanation about some experiment Sherlock was performing he decided it was really best not to know what the other specimens where here for.

Other than the strange body parts that sometimes appeared in their fridge, John’s first four days at the flat were relatively normal.

On his fifth morning at Baker Street John went downstairs and made his customary cup of tea. He got the morning paper from downstairs and settled himself into his chair to read it. It was looking like it was going to be another quiet and boring day. He heard Sherlock stir in the kitchen behind him and didn’t look up as Sherlock came and sat on the couch.

“Finally get some sleep eh?” John asks over the paper. Sherlock had spent the last 48 hours immersed in an experiment and it seemed like the man had finally crashed last night Sherlock just grunted in reply causing John to look up at him, and god when he caught sight of Sherlock he sure wished he hadn’t.

Sherlock had a black sheet wrapped around him, his lean torso bare where the sheet had slipped down. John’s eyes widened at the sight and his paper dropped to his lap. After a few moments of shock he gathered his wits about him.

“Uh Sherlock? Why aren’t you wearing clothes?” John asked trying to keep his voiced steady. Sherlock looked at John’s face and down at himself in bemusement.

“Am I breaking one of those people rules?” he asked confused. At this John could help but let out a chuckle.

“Well people don’t tend to walk about half naked no, not unless they are in a sexual relationship.” John said smiling at the frown on Sherlock’s face.

“Observe! I have a sheet John.” He pointed to his lap frustrated.

“Hm I don’t think sheets have counted as proper clothes since Caesar’s time Sherlock.”

“Who?” Sherlock asked looking more confused.

“Caesar? Really Sherlock? Ancient Rome? Togas?” John asked shocked. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

“I am used to walking about like this but seeing as you say it is not in the social rules when you live with a flatmate I suppose I’ll go put clothes on.” Sherlock said exasperatedly.

John thought he would actually rather like it if Sherlock walked about clad only in his sheet. Sherlock was rather magnificent to look at once you got over the shock of it. However, it would be rather difficult having to deal with a hard on most of the day and that would probably not be the best way to start a new friendship either. He sighed going back to his paper. One thing was for sure, life was always going to be interesting living at 221B.

 

 

 

Sherlock had had little to no problems adjusting with John’s presence. He found he rather liked the fact that the fridge always had milk now. The tea that John frequently made him was rather nice too. John didn’t complain about his experiments much and he didn’t disrupt them overly so.

When John had commented on his lack of clothes he really hadn’t thought anything of it at first. He hadn’t lived with anyone in quite some time and had deleted proper behavior for this sort of arrangement a while ago. He liked having John around for some reason so he capitulated to the social norms and put on clothes.

The next night he was met with another conundrum; to wake his flatmate or not to wake his flatmate.

He was playing a soft piece on his violin when he heard shouts and screams from John’s room. Sherlock rushed up prepared to fight off some attacker and found John thrashing about in his bed.

“John!” Sherlock called to him from the door. “John wake up!” After a few more tries John’s body stilled.

“Christ Sherlock, I’m sorry!” John sighed and slowly sat up, sweat glistening on his chest. It was then that Sherlock noticed John had nothing on but a pair of pants and his dog tags. “I forgot to warn you about my nightmares.”

“John, it’s all fine. You’ll be alright now?” He asks cautiously.

“Yea, I should be fine… it’s just sometimes I end up back in Afghanistan when I dream. You did good not trying to touch me though. I once punched a nurse in the hospital by accident when she tried.” At this Sherlock just nodded.

“Well goodnight then.” Sherlock said not sure what else to say. He took one last look at John, his eyes glancing over the well-muscled torso, the puckered scar on his shoulder as well as army tattoo on John’s arm once more before turning to leave. He made his way back downstairs to his violin intent on playing a calming peace for John to fall back asleep to. His mind drifted to John while he played. One would never have guessed what was hidden beneath all of those hideous oversized jumpers he thought.

 

 

Around week three John found that he was in fact living with a madman. Sherlock decided Monday to conduct an experiment that apparently involved setting fire to one of John’s jumpers. Tuesday John had found a bloodied hand dripping into leftover takeaway that he was going to eat for dinner. Wednesday Sherlock had been conducting an experiment that had produced such a noxious gas that John had to forcibly drag Sherlock out of the apartment before they both coughed to death.

Thursday’s incident however was what sent John closest to the edge. He had come downstairs that morning only to find that Sherlock had dumped the rest of the milk out as well has thrown out the eggs that John was going to cook for breakfast to make room in the fridge for a large dead bird. After shouting at Sherlock for fifteen minutes and demanding the fridge be bird-free when he got home, he grabbed his Jacket and left for the market slamming his door on the way out.

Sherlock waited for John to leave before smiling. Really, setting fires and chemical smoke bombs off hadn’t really fazed John at all. Sherlock's last attempt at a flat mate had ended when they had seen his collection of frozen toes. None of that seemed to bother John overly much. The day he didn’t get his morning tea however, now that was when John had had a problem. Sherlock chuckled at the strange things his flat-mate got upset over.

 

 

John was on his way home finally with a few bags in each hand when it began to rain. This did nothing to temper his current mood and he was seriously debating getting a cab instead of walking the few blocks back to the apartment when a sleek black car appeared in the street beside him. When the window began to roll down he looked over at it. Inside a pretty young woman motioned for him to come closer. Thinking they needed directions he hobbled over.

“Would you please get in the car, someone would like to talk with you.”

“Uh no.” John said gruffly and turned to move away. The door to the car swung open quickly and the woman stepped out.

“Oh I must insist Dr. Watson.” A voice said from within. John raised his eyebrows and after a moments hesitation he acquiesced.

Once he slid into the back seat the woman closed the door behind him content to stand in the rain apparently. John found himself seated next to an exceptionally tall well-dressed man. He had dark auburn hair and a long pointed nose. He held a familiar frown of disdain John couldn’t quite place as he looked over John’s appearance, apparently taking great offense to his beige jumper.

“So what’s this all about then?” John asked him.

“You recently moved in with one Sherlock Holmes.” The man beside him said.

“There a question in there?” John suppressed a grin at this overly arrogant man.

“Yes, I would like to offer you a deal.” The man stated.

"Still not a question." John replied with a smirk. 

“If you do stay living with Sherlock Holmes I would be willing to offer you finical incentive for updates on his comings and goings.”

“Why?” John asked.

“I worry about him.”

“You family?” John asks starting to piece a few things together.

“Brother.” The man states simply looking John over again when John begins to chuckle.

“Christ I should have known, you made the same face of contempt that Sherlock makes when he sees me wearing this jumper.” John rubs his face. “I can’t believe there are two of you.”

“Yes, very amusing.” The other Mr. Holmes says dryly. “You didn’t answer my proposition.”

“Well no. Of course I am not going to spy on your brother for money. Now can I get out?” Sighing the other Mr. Holmes nods.

“The offer will always be available if you ever change your mind.” He says as John leaves the car. The young woman slides in his place and the car leaves as quickly as it appeared. Could have at least given me a ride home, John thought as he continued on his way getting wetter by the second.

John’s already walking up the stairs to the flat when he realizes he never did get the mans name. He bustles into the kitchen and finds Sherlock at his microscope. As he moves about the kitchen putting things away he hears Sherlock inhale loudly behind him.

“Did he offer you money to spy on me?” Sherlock asks with a hint of anger in his voice.

“How did you know? I didn’t say a word.” John turns and asks him in amusement.

“Please, Mycroft always smells so strongly of arrogance and cake that it rubs off on anyone that is within touching distance.”

“Mycroft?” John snorts. “God I thought Sherlock was a bad name to get stuck with. And before you ask again yes he did offer and no I didn’t take him up on it.”

“Why not? It would have been a logical move for you.” Sherlock asks suspiciously.

“Sherlock,” John begins trying not to smile at his friend’s serious expression, “That is not what friends do.” John quietly moves to go upstairs and change out of his wet jumper.

Downstairs Sherlock sits processing John’s words before finally repeating it to himself quite unable to keep the hope or confusion from his voice.

“Friends.” He finally says one last time with a smile before returning to his microscope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always I hope you enjoy. what do you think? I don't have 100% of this planned out, so if you have a request of something you'd like to see let me know and I might be able to fit it in. 
> 
> Not all chapters are going to be this disjointed I promise. I thought it was important to show the first adjustments to living together and it turned out rather scattered I am afraid. The other chapters will hopefully be more fluid and not scan multiple weeks at once. 
> 
> Any mistakes I apologize for. Let me know if it makes it unreadable or doesn't make sense.


	3. Show me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have settled into being flatmates fairly well. Sherlock tries to not set things on fire and John comes on cases when he can. John is out on a date and well you can probably guess what happens.

_3._

 

_Case John – SH_

         Date Sherlock - JW

_Could be dangerous – SH_

            John sighed looking at his phone. This would be the third date with Katie that he ended early. I should just tell him to shove off, John thought. He wouldn’t have even checked his phone if Katie hadn’t gone to the loo. Sherlock really didn’t need him to come on every case did he? John thought back to last week when Sherlock had gone by himself. John had found a job at one of the local practices and couldn’t get away. Sherlock had idiotically gone chasing after the suspect by himself. Sherlock captured the man of course but got a concussion in the process. The next few days Sherlock had been insufferable. Sick or hurt Sherlock was probably ten times more difficult to deal with than regular Sherlock. If he could avoid that again he would, at any cost. John heaved another sigh and waited for Katie to come back so he could explain yet again.

 

 

 

            John walked causally towards the crime scene. He ducked under the police tape nodding to Sally as he went. She took in his button down and slacks vastly different from his usual jumper and jeans.

            “Date night?” she asked with a smile.

            “Not anymore.” He replied over his shoulder walking towards Greg. Sherlock was hovering around the body as he always did ignoring everyone, especially Anderson who kept huffing in annoyance every minute or so.

            “I thought you had a date?” Greg asked him in surprise. John just looked pointedly at Sherlock in response. “Oh well, you can always make it up to her. Send her flowers tomorrow or something.”

            “I probably shouldn’t considering she broke it off when I told her I had to go again.” John said with a half a smile.

            “Yea probably best not then.” Greg nodded.  

            “At least she was nice about it, she said while she really liked me she wanted a man who was a little less married to his work..”

            “I’ve heard that one too, don’t feel bad mate.” Greg said knowingly.

            “How is the divorce coming?”

            “It’s going. Luckily we don’t have kids so it could be a lot worse.”

            “John, if you are quite through with chitchatting I would appreciate your opinion. That is why you came.” Sherlock snarled in their direction. John smiled at his friend’s annoyance.

            “Sherlock don’t get huffy just because I was having a conversation with Greg and didn’t tell you how clever and amazing you are immediately upon arrival.” John said with a smirk as he bent over the body. He heard Greg muffle a laugh behind him. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to argue.

            “These cuts are made with a knife, precise and clean. The killer knew what he was doing.  I’d wager he had a bit of medical experience at least.” John said cutting him off. Sherlock looked back at the body forgetting his irritation.

            “Why do you say medical experience?” He asked.

            “Well the blade itself is extremely sharp but not serrated, you can tell from the cuts. The cuts themselves look remarkably similar to cuts made by a scalpel. In addition to that the placement on the body is a huge indicator. Each cut was calculated, no hesitation, and done in the places that would cause the most pain and damage without actually killing him instantly. Until of course the last one here.” John paused pointing to a deep vertical cut on the victims arm running from wrist to elbow. “The killer let him bleed out when he had exacted the last of his anger on him.” John finished looking at Sherlock. Sherlock smiled and nodded in approval.

            “Nicely done. Lestrade you are indeed looking for someone with a medical background, med student I’d say.” Sherlock stood looking over at the inspector. Greg was staring in amazement and appreciation at John.

            “That was impressive, he rubbing off on you?” Greg asked John who just rolled his eyes. He was a doctor! Of course he would have a vast knowledge of these things! It really annoyed John sometimes that people forgot that.

            “Please Lestrade! John is a medical man; he doesn’t need me to teach him about wounds and how they were obtained. Why do you think I bring him on these cases?” Sherlock snorted making John smile. “Did you just think I kept him around for the tea?”

            John laughed and went to catch up to Sherlock as the man briskly walked away, his long coat swishing behind him.

            “Oi! Text me if you get a lead!” Greg shouted after them. 

 

 

            “Sherlock what are we doing?” John whispered to him as they crouched in the corridor. Sherlock rolled his eyes in the darkness. The victim had turned out to be a professor of biology at the local teaching hospital. Sherlock and John were just about to search his office when Sherlock had heard a noise and dropped into a crouch.

            “I have a feeling our killer is searching his office as well. We will grab him when he comes out.” He says quietly to John who he sees nod and move to the other side of the door.

            They didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and a burly figure came out. Sherlock pounced on his back locking him in a headlock at the same time that John rushed him from the front. The man stumbled under Sherlock backing up slamming him into the wall harshly. Sherlock groaned as his head hit the cement wall and then again as he felt the man elbowing him in the ribs in an attempt to get him to let go. Sherlock felt his grip slipping from his neck as the man slammed backwards again. Sherlock’s arm was jarred out of the hold and was reduced to holding the man around his chest with one arm. 

            All of a sudden the man let out a yelp of pain then went limp. Sherlock dropped him on the floor with a sigh of relief. John dropped something and walked over to Sherlock.

            “You alright?”

            “Mmm. Should call Lestrade.” He replied pulling out his phone.

 

            _Detained killer. St. Anne Teaching Hospital. Building F. - SH_

**On my way.**

 

 

            Sherlock looked over to the victim who was beginning to regain consciousness. John walked over to stand over him giving him a glare when the man tried to reach for the item John had dropped earlier, a knife that had a blade that was reminiscent of a scalpel only enlarged.

            “I’d leave that if I were you.” John growled menacingly. “Get up slowly and walk.”

            Sherlock followed picking up the blade as he went, glad that he had kept his gloves on when they had entered the building. They waited outside in front of the entrance for Lestrade to show up. It didn’t take long for two police cars and an ambulance to show up. 

            “You brought an ambulance?” Sherlock growled at Lestrade when he stepped out of the car.

            “Well when you are involved there usually is need of one.” Lestrade replied. He stood by while a paramedic checked the killer over. “So you wanna tell me what happened this time?”

            “We showed up to look into the victims office and it was already occupied. When he came out we tackled him. Sherlock got him from behind while I got him from the front. He struggled for a bit until he passed out.” John replied.

            “How did he pass out??” Lestrade exclaimed.

            “Sherlock’s arm around his windpipe might have had something to do with it.” John said with a slight smirk.

            “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Lestrade sighed. “Can I cuff him now?” He directed at the paramedic.

            “I wouldn’t, he’s got a broken wrist.”  She replied.

            “Sherlock!” Lestrade glared at the detective.

            “Ahem. That one was me.” John piped up. Greg turned his wrath on John at this confession. “He had a knife Greg! What was I supposed to do let him stab me or Sherlock? No of course not! So I disarmed him instead.”

            “Fine fine!” Greg said resigned. “You two need to be checked out?”

            “Yea they should probably check Sherlock, he got his head slammed into the wall a couple of times.” John said and Greg nodded waving them away. John dragged Sherlock over to the ambulance before Sherlock could protest.

            “I am fine!” Sherlock growled to the man hovering about him checking his head. Lestrade, who had joined them, rolled his eyes.

            “So why did he do it?” Lestrade asked distracting Sherlock from the pokes and prods.

            “The professor was blackmailing the student, who eventually broke and turned on him opting to kill him rather than continue their arrangement.” Sherlock said simply.

            “What’s that in your hand?” The paramedic asked. Sherlock looked down and found he still had the knife.

            “The killers weapon.” Sherlock handed it to Lestrade without a second glance.

            “There is blood on it Sherlock.” Greg stated. At this the paramedic began checking his arms and stomach.

            “It’s not my blood you imbecile!” Sherlock growled sending the man away finally.

            “John?” Greg looked at the doctor who was leaning causally against the ambulance. John moved his jacket and looked down at himself and found a line of blood on his side.

            “Would you look at that? Sneaky bastard.” John chuckled. “It’s fine, just a scrape. I’ll clean it up when we get home.”

            “That’s not fair. Gavin get the paramedic back!” Sherlock whined.

            “John’s a doctor, if he says he’s fine he’s fine. Now I want to see both of you in the morning for statements.” Greg dismissed them walking away.

            “Come on Sherlock. We can pick up some take-away on our way home.” John chuckled at Sherlock’s disgruntled expression.

 

 

            “Go ahead and tuck in, I’m just gonna go put a plaster on that cut real quick.” John turned and headed for the bathroom.

            He reached under the sink and pulled out the first-aid kit. After he set it on the counter he pulled of his shirt grimacing at the blood. This would be his third good shirt ruined by blood. Sighing he pulled off his undershirt as well and took survey of the cut. He knew that it was deeper than just a scrape; luckily it looked like he would only need a few stitches. Not that bad at all. He turned to the case and pulled out an alcohol pad as well as a needle and thread. He grit his teeth as he swabbed at the cut with the pad, the alcohol stinging. He quickly threaded the needle and pinching his skin together he began to sew himself up.

“John.” A deep voice from the doorway announced Sherlock’s presence making John jump slightly.

“Christ Sherlock! Don’t do that! I could have made a mistake!” John turned to glare at him briefly before going back to his task.

“You lied.” Sherlock stated simply. John didn’t deny it; he really couldn’t considering Sherlock caught him stitching himself up. “Are you doing that without a numbing agent?” Sherlock asked when John said nothing to his previous statement.

“Don’t need it.” John replied finishing his last stitch neatly. He put everything away and washed his hands before grabbing his undershirt and pulling it on. He turned to leave and Sherlock was still standing in the doorway watching him. “Uh Sherlock, the take-away?”

“Right.” Sherlock turned and led the way back to the living room.

 

 

         Sherlock watched John eat his food from across the room, questions still whirling around in his mind. He was rather impressed with how John had stitched himself back together like it was nothing, not that he would admit it to anyone.

“You lied.” He repeated his earlier statement. John snapped his head up from his food.

“Are you still stuck on that? You lie all the time, I didn’t think you’d be so upset when I do it.” John said disgruntled.

“Not just about the cut.” Sherlock paused, “You told Lestrade that the killer passed out because of my arm around his neck. But my grip was lessoning when he collapsed, it wasn’t even around his neck anymore. So what did you do?”

John sighed and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Sherlock for a full minute before replying.

        “I was hoping you wouldn’t have noticed that. I should have known better.” He looked at Sherlock with a half-hearted grin. “When I rushed at him I grabbed his arms, but then he fell backwards pinning you and one of his arms broke free. That’s when he pulled his knife out and blindly jabbed it at me. I blocked it but, not well enough clearly. I could see you were loosing your grip so after I disarmed him I uh well…I used his pressure points to knock him out quickly.” John finished looking sheepish.

“Pressure points?” Sherlock repeated surprised. “I am fairly certain that is not standard army training. How did you learn to do that?”

“A buddy of mine in the army was into martial arts stuff. He taught a bunch of us a few tricks when we had nothing to do in Afghanistan.”

        Sherlock’s mind whirled at this statement. John never ceased to amaze him. Every time he thought he had the last secret figured out John would show him he was wrong. What else do I not know? The possibilities where endless really and Sherlock had already thought of ways to find out more.

“Sherlock?” John questioned snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts. John had a slightly concerned expression. Sherlock just grinned at him.

“You have to teach me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so italic texts is Sherlock, plain text is John and bold is Greg, just in case you needed clarification. 
> 
> the pressure point idea came from this youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEYAdtnSVVM  
> just imagine it faster. the actual move comes at around 1:00 minute in. 
> 
> again let me know of any errors that are detrimental to understanding the story. If it is just a misplaced comma I probably won't bother fixing it though. 
> 
> What do you guys think??? anything you would like to see? let me know!


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to relieve some tension and is thwarted repeatedly. Meanwhile Mycroft hints at Johns past and John shows that he as not as unobservant as Sherlock believes.

 4.

            John ducked into the club fast hoping that nobody saw him. He wormed his way through the throngs of people determined to get a drink before surveying the crowd. He needed a drink and he needed to get laid, in that order.

           Sherlock had managed to interrupt every single one of the dates he had had in the last two weeks and while John loved going on cases with Sherlock he was still dying for a little action, and not the running down an alley after a suspect kind of action. He looked down at his attire while the bartender fixed his drink. John was immensely grateful that Sherlock had been in his mind palace when he had left the flat. John’s dark black jeans and tight red button down shirt would have gotten him a lot of looks and questions from Sherlock. Not to mention the product he had brushed through his hair. Not his normal date attire at all.

          He accepted his drink and then turned to survey the crowd. The club was one that he had frequented a few times before he had moved in with Sherlock. One of the few gay clubs that John could actually tolerate, the music wasn’t too loud and the men were not too flamboyant. John scanned the crowd taking his time looking people over. Across the room he saw a man eyeing him. John took his time doing the same. The man was only a little taller than himself. He was muscled but not overly so if his blue shirt was any indicator. It was the dark black hair that drew John’s attention. It was not overly long and had more of a wave than a curl but it was definitely reminiscent of a certain detective that John lived with.

         The past couple of weeks John had found living with Sherlock more difficult than usual. Sherlock had taken to only wearing his pajama pants around the flat when there wasn’t a case, which had made it marginally more difficult for John to ignore how attractive he was. John had been caught staring at Sherlock on more than one occasion, which he was having an increasingly hard time explaining away.

         His growing interest in his flat mate and his frustration at his unfruitful dates was what had led him here tonight and not to a normal bar or club. John hoped that he could distract himself from his interest in Sherlock by finding someone else to dabble with. He flashed a smile in the mans direction and downed the rest of his drink. He turned to order another fairly certain that soon the man would join him.

        “John?” He heard a familiar voice behind him. John slowly turned dread filling his gut. He came face to face with Greg who was also in club attire.

         “Uh…” John stuttered.

         “Did Sherlock somehow worm his way in on this case without me knowing?” Greg asked in annoyed voice as he began scanning the crowd for Sherlock.

         “Ummm No.” John said slowly.

         “So what are you..” Greg paused raising his eyebrows at John.

         “Well this isn’t something I thought I would be sharing anytime soon.” Sighing John dropped his gaze to the floor.

         “You mean your …Gay?” Greg asked with surprise.

         “Um no, I could see how you would think that, but no. I am actually bisexual.” John said with apprehension. He wasn’t sure how any of his new friends would take this news and he hadn’t been particularly eager to find out. Some of the men he had met in the Army hadn’t been overly accepting.

         “Oh.” Greg said in astonishment. “So you are here to…”He said looking around.

          “Mmm… yea.” John gave a half-hearted smile. “Listen I can understand if you don’t want to go to the pub anymore.”

          “What? No no no! John I’m just surprised is all. It’s not a problem really. I just didn’t expect it.” Greg said in a rush. John sighed in relief.

          “Yea well it’s not something I really spread around. I’ve lost more than one friendship that way.”

          “Christ does Sherlock know?” Greg asked.

          “No and I prefer to keep it that way.” John gave him a look.

          “Why? He’s your best friend!” Greg exclaimed.

          “When we first met we talked about relationships and well he seemed panicked by any mention of relationships of that kind. Not to mention his constant disruptions and disdain towards my dates. I find it’s just easier to avoid those conversations with him.” John finished with a shrug. Greg nodded taking all of it in. “So you’re working on a case?” John asked not eager to continue talk of his sexuality.

           “Uh yea, drug trafficking case. Tonight’s the big op. We should be apprehending our men soon.”

           “Here?” John asked in alarm. “As in a bunch of Scotland Yarders are going to show up soon and bust them here?”

           “Yea.” Greg nodded.

           “Ok then. Well I think I’ll just leave now. I don’t need this to be an even more embarrassing night than it already is.” John downed the rest of his drink and set it on the bar.

           “Your secret is safe with me mate.” Greg said patting his shoulder. John smiled in gratitude before taking off for the door.

             He grabbed his coat from the coat check and practically ran out of the door. John walked briskly from the club, turning up his coat collar in an attempt to cover his face. He walked about two blocks before his shoulders began to relax and he began looking for a cab. He had walked another block when a sleek black car pulled up beside him. Sighing he climbed into the car to glare at the ginger-haired statue waiting inside.

            “Could this night get any worse?” He muttered glaring at Mycroft who rolled his eyes at this. The car began to move again driving steadily towards Baker Street.

            “Really no need to be overdramatic.” Mycroft replied. He looked John over taking in his black trousers and tight red shirt, his eyebrows rising slightly.

  
            “Whatever it is, it is a no Mycroft.” John said in annoyance. He had been kidnapped by Mycroft twice more since their first meeting, each time Mycroft had attempted to persuade John to agree to helping patch up some injured agent or another. “I’ve told you before that I haven’t done surgery since before I was shot. I’m out of practice and frankly I don’t want to help you.”

            “I am not here to inquire about your services as a doctor. I am here because your other skills have recently come to my attention.”

            “Finally got your hands on those sealed records then huh?” John said with a smirk. He had wondered how long some of his military records were going to be kept secret from this man.

             “Indeed.” Mycroft pulled out a thick folder. “First-class marksman and head of your special ops team.” He read from the file.

             “Point Mycroft?” John crossed his arms in annoyance.

              “I have a mission that could use your talents as a soldier.” He stated.

              “No.” John replied.

              “Come now, you must be bored running after my brother.”

              “Not interested Mycroft.” John glanced out of the window noticing the car had stopped in front of 221B.

              “Are you sure?” Mycroft asked in amusement.

              “Goodnight.” John said opening the door. He leaned closer before stepping out. “Please stop kidnapping me. No means no Mycroft and if you continue to ignore that I will use my considerable skills against you in the very near future.”

              John slammed the door shut and angrily stomped his way into the building. He practically ran up the stairs just to get out some of his energy and annoyance. He opened the door to 221B and found Sherlock playing his violin softly while staring down at the street.

             “What did he want this time?” He asked in a bored tone.

             “The usual. Spy on my brother, I’ll give you lots of money to do favors for me. You know.” John explained hanging up his coat. Sherlock snorted and turned to him. Sherlock stopped and looked John over from top to bottom. Shit! He had forgotten his clothes!

              “Want some tea?” he asked quickly hoping to distract Sherlock. He moved into the kitchen and busied himself with the kettle and teabags.

              “What’s with the clothes?” Sherlock asked from the doorway. John turned looking at Sherlock with a sheepish grin.

              “I know I look ridiculous. Uh my date wanted to well..” John stumbled around using his embarrassment as an advantage. “She wanted to go dancing…” he finished thinking that staying close to the truth was probably his best bet.

              “I didn’t realize you danced.” Sherlock said curiously.

  
              “Uh I don’t..” John said slowly trying to throw off any suspicion. John actually quite enjoyed dancing, but he preferred to explain his embarrassment by conveying an ineptitude with the social activity as opposed to anything else. Sherlock nodded and turned back to his violin. The kettle finished boiling and John poured the tea, adding two sugars and a dash of milk before giving a cup to Sherlock.

              “Well I am going to go change out of these ridiculous clothes.” John said turning to go.

              “They're not ridiculous.” Sherlock stated.

              “Huh?” John turned in surprise.

              “Your clothes, they are not ridiculous, just…different …for you.” Sherlock finished hesitantly. John stood in shocked silence for a few minutes staring at Sherlock’s back. When Sherlock began to play his violin again with renewed vigor John snapped back from his reverie. He shook himself and headed upstairs eager to put this strange night behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

               John waited another couple of days before trying to make his way back to the club. Sherlock had not had another case in a while and was engrossing himself in various experiments to try to keep him busy. John stopped into the kitchen on his way out briefly finding the detective hunched over piles of ash.

             “Tobacco ash again?” John asked.

             “Another date?” Sherlock retorted without looking up. John sighed and headed down the stairs. His attire this time was closer to his normal date wear, nice jeans and a light colored button down shirt. John had decided against his usual club clothes not wanting to arouse any more suspicion.

              John walked causally down the road towards the tub station. When he turned the corner he noticed a figure moving in the distance behind him. John made a few more turns than normal on his way to the station before having his suspicions confirmed. Sherlock was following him. Thinking on what to do John slowed his walk minutely trying to by more thinking time. John smiled; a plan came together in his mind.

              John causally pulled out his mobile and pretended to read a frustrating message. He stopped and again pretended to reply giving a fake huff of annoyance. He looked up and feigned frustration before he cleared his face in determination. He smiled and moved off in a different direction than before.

 

 

 

 

             Sherlock was bored! He had already finished three experiments and was once again studying tobacco ashes. Which was fascinating. It was! He looked over at his phone silently willing Lestrade to ring with a case. He heard John come down the stairs and step in briefly to tell him goodbye. Sherlock snipped at him in annoyance and then listened as John left the flat.

             On impulse Sherlock stood and grabbed his coat and scarf before following. Following John to his date and then watching from a distance while he deduced all of the woman’s deepest secrets before texting them to John would be decidedly more entertaining than studying more tobacco ash. He quietly followed at a safe distance watching as John made turn after turn towards the tube station. He observed as John pulled out his mobile and frowned at a message. John stopped in his tracks and typed a response to the message before looking up. He watched John debate on what to do before making a decision and walking in a completely different direction. Curious Sherlock followed him.

             Sherlock had managed to follow John a few more streets before John hailed a cab. Sherlock likewise found a cab quickly and had the man follow John’s. He waited a short ride before John’s cab stopped in front of a building that read ‘The Range’. What was that? Sherlock wondered. A bar? A club? What was John up to? He waited a few moments before leaving his cab and following John in.

             Sherlock’s stopped when he entered. A shooting range! What was John doing here? Sherlock rented a gun so as not to appear suspicious. He scanned the room spotting John in the corner holding a gun and aiming at a target fifty feet away. Sherlock stealthily walked down and took the place next to John watching him shoot with precision.

            “I thought you had a date?” He asked.

            “She canceled.” John said seemingly unsurprised at his presence. “Get bored of tobacco ash?” John asked bringing his gun down to reload while giving Sherlock a smirk.

            “Not in the slightest.” Sherlock denied. John laughed at this and Sherlock’s mood lifted. He loved making John laugh. “So why didn’t you just come back to the flat?”

            “I get bored too Sherlock.” John stated shrugging his shoulders and taking aim again.

             Sherlock watched as John unloaded another round into his target, which was now riddled with holes in the center. John’s stance was one of control and confidence. Sherlock’s eyes wandered over John’s strong shoulders and determined face. John was dressed nicely again but not as he was the other night. Sherlock had been surprised to find that John had gone out dancing. He had been even more surprised at his own reaction to John’s attire. John had looked good. It astonished Sherlock why John continued to wear appalling jumpers and loose fitting jeans when he could look like he had that night. John would be more difficult to ignore if he dressed like that all the time however Sherlock thought. No best if John continued to wear his jumpers. Sherlock didn’t need the distraction and he definitely didn’t need to ruin his only friendship with a one sided silly attraction on his part.

             John turned his way after emptying his gun again and raised his eyebrows. He looked down at the gun in Sherlock’s hand pointedly.

           “You gonna shoot that or just stand there?” He asked with a grin. Sherlock smiled back and took aim at his target. He fired making a neat circle in his target around the center before firing a few rounds directly in the middle. After he turned back to John.

           “Not bad.” John said with a smile. “Your stance could use some work.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

           “I'm curious to know how good you really are.” Sherlock challenged him. John raised his eyebrows in response while he reloaded his gun yet again. He took aim at Sherlock’s target before turning his head back. John stared him dead in the eye as he fired round after round without looking. When he was done John turned and looked at Sherlock’s target. Sherlock’s mouth opened in surprise when he took in the damage. Directly next to each one of Sherlock’s shots was another hole making the hole bigger and oval shaped. After recovering himself he turned back to John who was giving him an arrogant smirk.

           “What else can you do?” Sherlock challenged again receiving an even bigger grin from John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I hope you enjoyed this and as always I apologize for any mistakes. How are you guys liking it? Don't worry if you are curious about John's past that is hinted at in this chapter it will be expounded upon eventually. How would you like Sherlock to find out John's bisexual? I've got some ideas, as always but I am curious to know what you guys would like or hope to see. Let me know!


	5. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock recognizes his growing feelings. John learns about some of Sherlock's past.

 5.

            “Christ Sherlock! Are you ok?” He hears John’s worried voice above him. He opens his eyes slowly and sits up unable to suppress a hiss at his bruised ribs. They had been running after the killer when the crazed man had turned and attacked him. John couldn’t run as fast so it took him a bit longer to catch up and help to fight the man off. He was delayed enough for Sherlock to receive a few punches and scrapes with a knife before John had arrived and tackled the man to the ground.

            “I’m fine John, was the girl ok?” Sherlock groaned as he sat up. They had gotten to the warehouse just in time to stop the latest victim from being murdered.

            “Traumatized, but otherwise ok. Lestrade’s team had just burst in when you ran off.” John squatted down in front of him. “We need to get you to a medic. Come on Sherlock.”

            “John!” Sherlock whined. “You are a doctor!!!! Can’t you just do it when we get back home?” John considered him for a moment before finally nodding.

            “Yea alright, but only because I am tired and hungry and don’t feel like waiting for the medics to do a job in an hour that really only takes 15 minutes.” John says as he helps Sherlock to stand.

            Sherlock looks over to the killer who appears to be knocked out cold, blood dripping from his face. Sherlock looked at John with a raised eyebrow to which John simply shrugs at. They heard hurried footsteps and calls of ‘John’ and ‘Sherlock’ behind them.

            “Over here Greg!” John calls.

            “Greg?” Sherlock asks him confused. John rolls his eyes at him.

            “Greg Sherlock. Greg _Lestrade_. I honestly think you do that on purpose.” John shakes his head. Sherlock decides against telling him that yet again that no, he doesn’t do it on purpose Lestrade is just more memorable so ‘Greg’ just keeps getting deleted.

            “You two alright?” Lestrade, or Greg apparently, asks as he jogs into the room.

            “Yea, decent enough anyway. Sherlock’s got a few cuts but I’ll see to those back home. Statements in the morning?” John asks clearly eager to leave.

            “Yea sure. Try to make in it before lunch this time eh?” Greg pleads as he looks over the unconscious killer. “Oi! What did you do to his face?”

            “Well he scuffled with Sherlock a bit and then when I tackled him he might of hit his face a bit more.” John supplied easily. Yea he did hit his face against something John, your fist, Sherlock thinks repressing a smile. They watch Greg sigh and call for a paramedic before waving them off.

           

            They get take-away on their way home like they normally do after a long case. When they reach the flat Sherlock sags into the sofa and pulls the food containers towards him. John surprises him by slapping his hands away as he sits down next to him. 

            “You are always harassing me to eat and now that I am agreeable to the action you won’t let me. John at least be consistent.” Sherlock scowls at his friend who is opening the first aid kit. Not that he means it. John is the most dependable person he knows.

            “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I fully intend to make sure you eat every bit of your meal tonight Sherlock, don’t think I don’t know that you haven’t properly eaten in three days. I just don’t think you should be bleeding into your food. Now take off your shirt.”

            “What??” Sherlock says mildly alarmed.

            “I need to see what the damage is Sherlock, besides the obvious hits to your face I can’t tell much else until you take your shirt off.”

            Right of course that is the reason, it will be entirely clinical Sherlock thinks. He meant nothing by it. Sherlock chastises himself as he takes off his shirt. He looks down at his torso, a few bruises and cuts, not bad at all really. He manages to sit still as John’s hands glide over the bruises and scrapes assessing the damage. His light touch sends a tingling sensation as it travels. Sherlock shivers slightly. Hopefully John will think I am just ticklish Sherlock muses.

            “No broken ribs and only one of these cuts need stitches.” John finally concluded. He moved to the kit and pulled out a needle and thread as well as alcohol swabs and a tube of lidocaine. Sherlock takes the lidocaine and puts it back in the box.

            “Don’t need that.” He states leaving no room for argument. If John can go without it then so can he. John doesn’t argue as he expects him too. He just raises his brow in amusement and prepares the needle.

            Sherlock grits his teeth at the sting of the alcohol and then watches as John pushes the needle in. He is unable to stop the hiss of pain that leaves him. He had thought that it would feel similar to shooting up, a pinch and then nothing. Clearly not the case, he thinks as he grinds his teeth. How did John do this? Sherlock thought back to that night, John had been calm and relaxed as he had stitched up his cut. His face hadn’t even held any tension or showed any pain.

            “Wouldn’t be feeling anything if you had just let me use the lidocaine.” John said amusement clear in his voice. “It supposedly helps if you don’t’ watch while I do this.”

            “Please, you’re almost finished.” Sherlock scoffs. He watches and John ties off the thread and then puts away the first-aid supplies.

            “Eat Sherlock.” John says as he moves to the kitchen, presumably to make tea.

            Sherlock pulls out the containers and sets them on the table. He grabs one and snaps his disposable chopsticks apart and begins to shovel food down. He sees John come back in out of the corner of his eye; he’s carrying two glasses and the bottle of nice whiskey they keep hidden when Mycroft visits. Sherlock looks up at John curious.

            “That was a difficult case and I want to relax.” John explains pouring them each a glass. “Besides, it will likely help your pain and you don’t like drinking alone so here, Doctor’s orders.” John places a glass in front of him.

            Sherlock smiles at him and pauses in his dinner to take a long swig of the drink before returning to his Chinese food.  They eat in silence for a while, each too exhausted to argue or joke. John leans over at one point and steals a few of his vegetables. Sherlock takes some of John’s chicken moments later. Sherlock likes that John doesn’t care if he takes his food. He doesn’t even fuss when they are at a restaurant together and Sherlock takes from his plate. Mycroft would always swat his hand away when they were kids.

            John puts down his container with a satisfied sigh. Sherlock watches as John stretches back, longing to touch the muscles that he knows are rippling under John’s stupid oatmeal colored jumper. Really, he would have to find a way to ‘accidently’ destroy that jumper next. John reclines back into the sofa and clicks on the tele. Sherlock likewise relaxes back into the couch propping his feet up on the coffee table.

 

 

            Sherlock opens his eyes groggily and realizes he must have fallen asleep on the couch. He closes his eyes and turns inward away from the sunlight pouring through the open curtains. Well at least he tries to before realizing he is not alone on the sofa. He is stretched out, his legs dangling off the end and his head is in John’s lap. John’s face is still relaxed into a deep sleep, his arm resting on Sherlock’s torso.

            Not good. Sherlock thinks. Definitely not good, he thinks feeling a sensation in his pants that he has up until this point repressed for a long time. Carefully, so as not to wake John, Sherlock gets up from the sofa and speeds down the hall to take a shower. Hopefully John won’t be mad, or better yet he won’t remember. John kept adamantly saying “Not Gay” to everyone that made a comment about Sherlock and him. The last thing Sherlock needed was for John to get uncomfortable with him and his growing attraction to his ‘not gay’ flatmate was sure to make it uncomfortable He knew John didn’t have a problem with gay couples, his sister was a lesbian after all. However Sherlock wasn’t sure if John would want to live with him if he knew Sherlock was gay and well, attracted to John. No. He could not let John know.

It hadn’t been this hard to deny his attraction in a long time. Usually it was easy to push such thoughts out of his head. He had been successfully ‘married to his work’ for a while now. The longer he spent with John the harder it had been to convince himself of that statement. Sherlock refused to loose John however so this must be kept hidden.

            After his hurried shower Sherlock waltzed into the kitchen to find John making tea.

            “Why did you let me sleep on the sofa you git?” John questions him with a playful swat. Sherlock sighed in relief. John didn’t know!

            “You were to heavy to move and you refused to wake up.” He quipped back at John. John rolled his eyes and made for the direction of the bathroom. Sherlock takes his tea and moves to his chair. He absentmindedly plucks at his violin for a while and doesn’t notice John has finished his shower and now sitting opposite him until John says something.

            “Don’t let your tea get cold. Also we should head to Scotland Yard at some point so don’t get lost in your mind palace.” Sherlock rolls his eyes and puts down his violin. He drinks his tea obediently to get John off his back.

            “Sherlock…” John starts. Sherlock looks at him. His hair is still wet and sticking out in all sorts of directions. Clearly he neglected to comb it after running a towel through it. John looks hesitant and uncertain.

            “Spit it out John.”

            “I wanted to ask you….last night when I was patching you up I couldn’t help but notice certain scars in your arms. I was wondering if you would tell me about them.” John finally got out. Sherlock stared at him for a long moment. He hadn’t told John of his past with drugs. It had been severely hinted at before especially by Donovan but he had never come outright and told John. Taking a deep breath he decided to just lay it all out there. If John was going to be put off by it, mine as well tell him now.

            “Well you being a doctor I am sure you recognize track marks when you see them. Yes John I used to do drugs. Quite frequently I am afraid.” He says bluntly. He watches John’s face sure to see some sign of rejection or anger. Sherlock is rather puzzled when he sees neither. John simply looks curious at this point.

            “Why?” He asks tilting his head to the side.

            “John, imagine that you are in a room with a thousand people. Every person is different and demanding your attention. Half of them are dangerous; some might even be shooting at you or other people. The some of them might be running around or dancing. Every single person doing a different activity, and all of them are trying to talk to you at once. All of them are trying to get you to pay attention. In short chaos.”

            “Sounds like a bloody nightmare.” John muttered.

            “Indeed. Well that is what my mind is like. Things are constantly moving about, people, things facts zooming through my head relentlessly, everything demanding attention.” Sherlock pauses appreciating the look of distaste that appears in John’s face. “As you can imagine it is hardly comfortable. I have managed to find ways to deal with it. These days I submerge myself in cases or I retreat into my mind palace when it gets too much, although don’t be mistaken I retreat into my mind palace for other reasons as well. Back in my university days I had yet to develop ways of coping with it. My mind palace was not as nearly developed or helpful at that point and besides schoolwork that took very little time to complete I had nothing to occupy my mind. A …. friend and I began to dabble in drugs a bit, relatively harmless ones at first which soon escalated. Cocaine if you were wondering. For some reason it seemed to help. It just calmed everything down for me, focused my mind and then it became hard to stop.”

            “Why did you?” John asked after a moment.

            “My brother tried on a few occasions. He’d pull me off the streets and into rehab, but for all his intelligence he still failed to understand the best way to help me was not to tie me down and force me into it. It was Lestrade who gave me a reason.” John motioned for him to continue. “I was living on the streets, well looking back I highly doubt you could classify it as living, but anyway someone I knew turned up dead. The homeless network around London tends to be a close-knit group; we looked out for one another and helped when we could. Well the girl turned up dead and the police were not really investigating the matter. I was the one who found her and even while high I could tell that it was murder. Lestrade had just been made inspector at that point. He took in what I had to say and listened. He was the only one who didn’t write me off as another raving addict. A pretty big risk for him I imagine. With my help they were able to catch who had done it. Lestrade told me I had a gift for it and if I was clean I could potentially work with them more. Solving that case was the first thing that helped besides the drugs. I found that by focusing on a puzzle the noise would go away.”

            “And so you got clean.” John said with a hint of admiration.

            “Yes, I actually went to Mycroft and asked to be put in rehab.” Sherlock smiled at the memory, “ He dropped his umbrella when I did. I think it is one of the few times I have actually managed to shock him.” John chuckled at that. Sherlock sat in silence for a while letting John take in all that he had told him.

            “I new that you had a past with something, Donovan certainly hinted at it enough times, but I didn’t know how serious it was. I am not saying I condone it Sherlock but I can understand where you were coming from. I hope that if you ever feel like you need it again you come to me for help before you do anything stupid.” John says seriously. “I mean it Sherlock, if it ever becomes to much say something.”

            Sherlock stares at John. People usually get rather judgmental after learning his past. They tend to look at him with disgust and a sense of superiority after finding out. John didn’t look that way at all. His face was serious but there was also concern and sincerity.

            “Sherlock?” He questions.

            “No one has ever reacted quite so pleasant about my past before.” Sherlock finally answers.

            “Sherlock people are idiots.” John snorts. “I have a sister who is addicted to alcohol, just like my father was before her. While I sometimes I want to shake her for the decisions she makes I will never turn her away or think myself better just because she has a problem. Shit,” He pauses running a hand through his hair. “Most people are addicted to something. Look at me! Someone says danger and I come running. Half the reason I went into the army was for that alone. Not to mention while in Afghanistan I managed to pick up a habit for gambling as well. We all seek out to satisfy those thrills, whatever they may be. So who am I to judge you for yours when mine are no better really? Forget all the people who don't accept you for it. True friends accept everything about you, good and bad." He finishes. Sherlock takes all of this in. John is definitely one of a kind.

            “Well my own brother could never accept it so I never thought I would meet someone who wouldn’t hate me for it. Thank you.” Sherlock says finally. After a few moments silence he asks “Gambling John? That does seem like you.”

            “Really? Doesn’t seem like me? I joined the army and gambled away my life. Hell, I’d still be there if I hadn’t gotten shot.” He said with a smile.

            “Do you still gamble though? In the traditional sense of the word.” Sherlock asks. Sherlock was positive that he didn’t but John did tend to surprise him.

            “Hm no not really. Don’t really need to around you. I stopped all poker and dice gambling when I got home from Afghanistan. I only picked it up as something to keep from being bored when there was nothing going on. No casualties to fix, no enemies to shoot.” Sherlock laughs.

            “Only you could get bored in a war zone John.”

            “Like you have any room to talk Mr. I shoot the wall when I am bored.” John throws a pillow at him. “Come on then let’s go give Lestrade his statements.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is posted a little later than I wanted. I wanted to show a more understanding John in regards to sherlock's drug past. I have read so many fics where John is sad and disappointed at it and angry when Sherlock relapses. In my opinion John has really no room to talk, he is just as much of an addict as sherlock. In a way we all are addicts of something. So I wanted to show that while John most definitely doesn't want him going back to it, that he understands and he accepts Sherlock despite it and if it becomes a problem again he will help him through it not shun him for it. 
> 
> It took me a while to get out what I wanted to say and I am still not 100% happy but I couldn't keep staring at it.  
> I hope you all enjoyed it however. Let me know either way, I can take it. :) 
> 
> a few more chapters of sexual tension friends and then these two crazy kids will finally get their heads out of their asses. (that is the plan anyway) Any requests on how you want it to happen?


	6. Coming clean. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock starts a new case and is startled to find something new about John.

 6.

            John sighed in relief as he finally left the clinic after a long shift. It had been a long couple of weeks and Sherlock had been going stir crazy with nothing to do. John had taken several more shifts just to occupy his own time. He walked towards the tube station at a slow pace debating on getting a coffee from a shop up the street when he notices a sleek black car pull up next to him. John rolls his eyes and keeps walking.

Mycroft bloody Holmes! If he thinks I am going to get into that car I he has another thing coming John thought as he picked up his pace, determined to get away from the car. Another car pulls up a few meters ahead and two well-muscled men get out and block his path.

“Really Dr. Watson, just get in the car.” Mycroft’s voice calls to him from over his shoulder.

John clinches his teeth and moves stiffly to the waiting car. He slides in next to Mycroft and waits until the car is in motion before turning his gaze to the ginger-haired main next to him.

“Mycroft I bloody told you not to do this again. I told you.” He growled.

“Please Dr. Watson I was trained by MI-5, I am not easily intimidated and I am sure I am more than capable of handling you.” Mycroft dryly assures him.

“Handle me? You sodding prick I -” John pauses drawing in a breath to calm his nerves. He breathes slowly for a few minutes trying to calm his temper.

“Now, I am aware that you and my brother have not had a case in the last two weeks and that my brother seems to be waging war on your flat in boredom.”

“Point Mycroft?” John snarled at him.

“I have another mission to offer you. One that would need your skills as a doctor and soldier and have the added benefit of letting you get away from my vexing little brother. I know you have been just as bored as he is, this will no doubt offer you a distraction.”

John looked out into the street watching shops and apartments go by. One more block and they would be back at Baker Street. Sighing he thinks over Mycroft’s words.

“I have picked up extra shifts at the clinic. I am not bored, just tired of posh gits thinking they can kidnap me anytime they wish.”

“Oh come now John don’t delude yourself.  Your limp is back, minutely yes but still there. In addition to that you spent your day off sitting in your chair for six hours attempting to finish a crossword while your hand shook. You clearly need an occupation just as much as my brother and I am offering you one. I am not afraid to admit that we sorely need your expertise --”

“How do you know what I do with my time off Mycroft?” John all but shouted at him.

“I prefer to have a visual on my brother in case of emergencies.” Mycroft said with a quirk of his brow. John saw red.

“Let me clue you in on something Mycroft, I do not need your ‘missions’ nor do I need to have a vacation from your brother. Yes he is the most annoying git on the planet, apart from you, but it doesn’t matter. I like that part about him just like I like all of the other parts. When friendship gets tough you don’t just take a vacation.” John pauses drawing in another breath. “One more thing before I go. MI- 5 trained you yea? How long ago was that I wonder? Not to mention you don’t do much fieldwork anymore do you? You know who bloody well trained me and I assure you I have kept up my skills. I meant what I said before, leave me alone.” He finished before pulling back his arm and punching Mycroft in the jaw. Mycroft’s head jerked back on impact, his eyes widening in shock and then pain.

“That's for the cameras. I don’t think I have to tell you not to replace them.” He said before exiting the car calmly and storming into 221B.

He stormed up the stairs shedding his coat as he entered. Sherlock, who was on the sofa plucking his violin idly, raised his eyebrows as he entered. John immediately went to the bookcase and started rummaging around looking for cameras or bugs.

“John?” Sherlock questions.

“Your fucking nosy git of a brother!” He says by way of reply.

“Should have guessed.” He snorts. “You’re looking for?”

“Cameras, bugs anything that he is using to spy on us.”

“He will just replace them.” Sherlock said next to him. John watched as Sherlock reached up and plucked a small electronic device from the top shelf of the bookcase and setting it in John’s hand. “There is one, I believe there is only two more.”

“You knew there were cameras?” John asked rounding on Sherlock who was now reaching up to a picture frame.

“Yes of course. My brother is a controlling pompous ass who has been spying on me for years.” Sherlock calmly replied placing another device in John’s hand. “And as I said before, he will just replace them.”

“Hm I think he might have learned his lesson on that account.” John smirked.

“John! What did you do?” Sherlock questioned his eyes boring into John in intense curiosity.

“I yelled at him, threatened him and then I uh-” John paused feeling slightly ashamed now for his violent reaction. “I punched him.” He finished finally.

Sherlock’s eyes shot up in surprise, his mouth falling open in stunned silence. John shifted uncomfortably for a few moments under Sherlock’s gaze.

“I know he is your brother and you two don’t get on but I shouldn’t have hit him. I am sorry-” John stopped as Sherlock began to laugh hysterically. It was John’s turn to stare at Sherlock in utter amazement as Sherlock collapsed into his chair laughing uncontrollably. John sat down with a grin on his face and waited for Sherlock to calm down.

“John that is the best news I have had in a long time. I must say I am rather displeased that I was not present.” Sherlock said with a grin when he had finally caught his breath.

“Sorry Sherlock it was a spur of the moment kind of thing.” John said sheepishly.

“Did you at least get a picture of him afterwards?” Sherlock asked hopefully.

“No.” John chuckled.

“Johhhn!!” Sherlock whined.

“I’m sorry Sherlock. I’ll remember for next time I promise.”

“Oh no,” Sherlock shook his head, “I had better be present next time.”  
            “Maybe we can work something out for your birthday. I am sure Mycroft will have done something else to piss me off by then.” John said with a grin. Sherlock laughed again before getting up to go retrieve his mobile, which was now ringing.

“Sherlock Holmes.” He answered with a ridiculous grin still plastered to his face. “Be right there.”

John quickly stood up and went to grab his coat as Sherlock manically flew about collecting his coat, scarf and gloves from around the room.

“So where are we off to?” John asked as he followed Sherlock down the stairs.

“Blackfriars bridge, body washed up from the Thames.”

 

 

“So how many things has he set fire to in the last week?” Lestrade asked. John chuckled softly keeping his eyes on Sherlock as he examined the newest corpse.

“You don’t even want to know Greg.” He replied with a grin. John watched as Sherlock’s lean form contorted around the corpse taking in all the details. “So why do you need Sherlock on this?”

“Second body that we’ve had turn up like this.” Greg responded. “The other was a bit farther up. Forensics said the first victim was dead before being dumped most likely. This one’s probably the same.”

“Wrong.” Sherlock replied in a bored tone. “John what do you see?”

Sighing John crouched down and looked over the body. The man was in his mid thirties and dressed in tight pants and a showy button down shirt.

“Hmmm. Not dead before entry, he clearly drowned. Perhaps drugged before being tossed in, or knocked unconscious.”

“Not weighted down?” Sherlock asks with a slight grin.

“No signs of any weight being attached. He’s got defensive wounds and looks to have been beaten however.” John replies to Sherlock’s challenge.

“Good work.” Sherlock smiles.

“Looks like he was injected here so probably drugged.” He leans over the corpse and points to a small red dot. He looks up finding Sherlock startlingly close to his face. His breath hitches momentarily at the nearness. John quickly stands up and moves back a pace. Keep your shit together Watson!  John thinks to himself.

“Anything else Sherlock?” Greg prods to which Sherlock just rolls his eyes.

“The victim was clearly out for the night, probably to a club given his attire. As John said he was beaten brutally and then drugged and dumped. I should probably look over the first case to compare. In all likelihood that victim was probably drugged as well. I bet Anderson screwed it up.”

“Well you were right about the club, his friend reported him missing a few days ago. His mate said that they had gone out to this club and he last saw the victim chatting someone up but hadn’t seen him sense. How you new he was at club based on his clothes is beyond me though.”

“That was easy John wore similar clothes when he went to a club.” Sherlock replies with a wave of his hand.

“So you told him John?” Greg looks over to John surprised.

“Told me what?” Sherlock looks up at John’s shell-shocked expression.

“Told you about Barcode……” Greg pauses as John begins to glare at Greg shaking his head profusely.

“Barcode??” Sherlock asked looking at John.

“Nothing Sherlock. Nothing.” John states emphatically willing Sherlock to let it go.

“Uh-huh.” Sherlock utters with a look that clearly says he will get the answer out of John later. “What about the first victim, last time they were seen?”

“Also at a club.”

“The same one?”

“No, first victim from ‘Pantheon’ second was ‘Dice’. Both male as well in case you were wondering, found exactly a week apart.” Greg offers glancing apprehensively at John who is still glaring in his direction.

“Very well. I have research to do. I’ll let you know when I have a lead.” Sherlock turns with a dramatic sweep of his coat. “John.” He calls.

John reluctantly follows him trying to think of what he is going to tell Sherlock and wondering what the odds are of being able to trick him twice.

 

 

Sherlock watches John out of the corner of his eyes in the cab. John is still tense and his left hand twitches every so often. Clearly still worrying over whatever Lestrade let slip. Sherlock looks back to his phone and searches ‘Barcode club’. When the results pop up his mind stills momentarily as he reads the phrase ‘gay club’. Confused Sherlock scrolls down looking for alternatives. A multitude of questions were now flowing through his mind: Was Lestrade really referring to a gay bar? Why would John be at a gay bar? Is John Gay despite his claims? Why did Lestrade know? Why hadn’t he told Sherlock?

The cab stops and John gets out stiffly and makes his way upstairs leaving Sherlock to pay. When Sherlock steps into the flat moments later John is in the process of making tea.

“John.” He begins.

“Tea first Sherlock.” John says in a clipped tone.

Sherlock sits in his chair and watches as John rigidly moves about. Still tense. Does he think I won’t accept him? Sherlock ponders. Finally John sits across from him sipping his tea quietly.

“Barcode.” Sherlock states.

“What about it?” John asks pointedly staring at his mug.

“It’s a gay club.” John looks up at him questioningly.

“You searched on your phone in the cab didn’t you?” John sighs. John seems to debate with himself for a few minutes before shaking his head and saying, “Fuck it I can’t think of another lie. The night…. The night that I said that I had been out dancing I was actually at that club. Lestrade and his team were about to bust the place in some undercover op so I came home.”

“But you said you’re not gay!” Sherlock exclaims confused.

“I’m not gay Sherlock,” John pauses looking Sherlock in the eye. “I’m bisexual.”

Bisexual. John is bisexual. How did he miss that???? Sherlock thinks. Despite being mildly impressed that John managed to cover it up Sherlock was still rather irritated as to why John kept it from him in the first place.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asks.

“Well because that first night at Angelo’s when I was asking you a question about if you had a boyfriend you looked panicked Sherlock. You clearly weren’t comfortable with talk of relationships, particularly of the same sex kind, so I figured it best if you didn’t know about that part of me. Listen if it’s a problem I can move out.” John said with a resigned expression.

“Please John it doesn’t bother me!” Sherlock gawked.

“Then why were you panicked?” John argued.

“I wasn’t panicked!” Sherlock denied. John rolled his eyes.

“Sure you weren’t.” He snorted.

“John really, stop being a complete idiot. If I looked uncomfortable it was because I was not used to having people ask me questions about my life and be honestly interested. I could care less about your sexuality.” Sherlock brushes off.

“Really?” John looks at him still unsure.

“Of course. Now can we put this silly conversation behind us? We have a case John!”

John gave him one last searching glance before nodding and pulling out his laptop. Sherlock watches him for a few more moments before retreating to his mind palace. He makes his way to the ‘John’ room and amends a few of his facts:

John- ~~not gay~~ bisexual

John- ~~bad liar~~ decent liar

Sherlock looks over the newly acquired information. John never ceases to surprise him. Sherlock smiles to himself before leaving his mind palace closing the ‘John’ door firmly shut. There would be plenty of time to focus on his new findings after the case was solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer to update. I was having trouble with few details but I finally got them to work out. This is only part one of the case so the chapter will continue the case started in this one. 
> 
> again hope you like it. Sherlock now knows John is bisexual. Probably doesn't take too many brain cells to see what he is going to do with that information. :) 
> 
> I am sure there are errors and again I apologize.


	7. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock finish up another case and Sherlock takes on a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay here! Hope you enjoy!

 

         Sherlock adjusted his shirt once more before moving on to his hair. Carefully he styled it to mimic some of the pictures he had found when doing his research. Finding club appropriate clothes had been easy but conforming to the other aspects of club behavior and appearance were taking him a little more time.

         Sherlock sighed in frustration and stared at the wild mess that his hair had turned into. If he could get his mind of a certain doctor this would take a lot less effort. Ever since finding out John was bisexual it had been exceedingly difficult to focus on the case at hand.

          “Sherlock are you sure we have to go to the club because I’m sure we can just tell your findings to Lestrade and he’ll-“ John poked his head around the corner and stopped taking in Sherlock’s appearance.

          “Yes of course John! The other two victims were picked up on special events nights. This next club is in the killer’s comfort zone and the only one to have an event going on for the next two weeks. It is the perfect opportunity.” Sherlock explained and then looked down at himself once more when John stayed silent. He had on tight fitting jeans and a silk burgundy shirt tucked in. “I thought this was the proper attire.”

            John smiled and came forward. John himself was dressed similarly in dark wash jeans that fit better than his normal wear and a simple blue button up shirt that drew attention to his eyes.

       “It looks fine, but your hair looks like a bird has tried to nest in it.” John smiled and reached up tugging the curled locks into place. “There, less is more.”

        Sherlock looked back in the mirror and nodded.

          “Now when we get there we need to appear as a couple. Then after I have identified the killer I will go and hit on him. But he needs to see that we are a couple first. That’s what triggers his anger, the cheating.” He finished looking back at John.

       “I think I should be the one to flirt with him.” John said after a while.

       “Why? You have appalling acting skills!” Sherlock walked past him into the living room.

       “uh-huh. Listen when was the last time you were in a relationship or had a one night stand?” John asked raising his eyebrows. ”If you want him to believe it, it needs to be convincing and I don’t think you have the experience to pull it off.”

       Shocked Sherlock turned to look at John who was standing in the doorway wearing a smirk. John never doubted his abilities. Sherlock narrows his eyes at this.

       “Even if you have had a string of romantic dalliances that doesn’t mean _you_ have the acting skills required to make it believable.” He sneered.

        John’s smile widened and he stood up straighter. Sherlock watched as his eyes turned predatory and John began to walk across the room. Not walked, sauntered. Sherlock corrected. John oozed confidence and sex as he made his way over never breaking eye contact. He stopped when he was in front of Sherlock and gave him a thorough looking over. John’s heated gaze as it worked up his body sent a shiver down Sherlock’s spine. He tensed as john reached up and caressed his hair, his fingers ghosting delicately over his ear causing another shiver to shake his body.

       “Can I buy you a drink beautiful?” John asks in a deep seductive tone.

        Sherlock’s mind goes blank. After a few minutes his mind registers that John has stepped away and is standing casually with a knowing grin. Sherlock releases the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

         “You’ve made your point.” He says clearing his throat before grabbing his coat and heading downstairs.

 

 

 

            Sherlock watched discreetly from the corner as John made his way across the dance floor. It had been simple to spot the killer even in the crowd that occupied the bar. It had taken considerably longer to set the trap for the man. John played his part well making sure to treat Sherlock as his boyfriend. He even made a point to flirt outrageously with everyone allowing Sherlock to pretend offence further cementing the idea of infidelity on John’s part. The pièce de résistance of course was a staged argument close to the target where Sherlock chastised John’s wandering eye and John flippantly brushed him off.

            Now as Sherlock watched, John flirted mercilessly with the man. In no time the man nodded and John turned making his way towards the door. The man followed with a sinister smile.

             Outside Sherlock followed at a safe distance watching as John staggered and swayed pretending to be inebriated. Neither one of them had had any alcohol, just many fake drinks, shot glasses with water and mixed drinks missing the alcohol, (supplied by a helpful bartender for a fee) so as not to appear suspicious. The pair ahead of him hailed a cab and Sherlock likewise raised his arm to acquire a taxi.

After instructing the driver to follow the cab in front Sherlock pulled out his mobile and sent off a quick text to Lestrade.

 

_Killer left club with new victim. In_ pursuit. – SH

 

 

A short while later his mobile pipped.

 

**Don’t do anything stupid.**

           The cab stopped in front of an apartment and Sherlock watched as the man hopped out of the cab followed quickly by John still keeping up his drunk charade. John’s acting skills were actually getting better Sherlock thought. After they entered the building Sherlock paid the cabbie and then texted Lestrade once more.

 

 

_45 St. Ann’s Court. – SH_

 

 

 

 

 

            John followed the man into the apartment hoping Sherlock had been able to follow them. Almost as soon as they had entered the apartment Carl, the crazed man in front of him, backed him up against the wall.

           “You know with such an attractive boyfriend I still don’t understand why you would want to come home with me.” He whispered before claiming John’s lips in an aggressive very wet kiss. John played along and kissed him back trying to resist the urge to pull away. Carl wasn’t bad looking overall but his kissing left much to be desired to be honest, not to mention the whole serial killer hobby.

           “Men like you just never appreciate what you have.” Carl said as he pulled away. Just in time John deflected the man’s arm to the side watching a syringe clattering to the floor briefly before turning his attention once again to Carl. The man’s face was now contorted in rage. Carl lunged at him pulling him forward and into the living area.

            John followed then quickly tripped the man causing him to fall backwards. John fell with him unable to tear his arms from Carl’s vice-like grip. Carl shrieked as they struck the floor and after he regained his breath began to swing up at John. John deflected one punch but received a hard hit to his face. Stunned momentarily Carl used the opportunity to roll them over. John blinked in confusion as his eye began to swell. Just in time he brought his arms to protect his face as Carl swiped down at him with a shiny object. Grunting at the pain John attempted to roll them once more but was unable to accomplish it without moving his arms.

          Suddenly Carl’s weight was lifted off of him and John heard a scuffle and a yell.

          “John?” He heard Sherlock ask from above him.

 

 

 

 

          Sighing John accepted the ice pack from the medic and held it to his eye. He turned his attention to Greg and Sherlock while she began to work at the cuts on his arms.

          “Sherlock this is unacceptable! You don’t use John as bait for a serial killer!” Greg ranted at Sherlock.

          “He was perfectly fine Lestrade really no need to be so dramatic!” Sherlock looked to John his eyes betraying a slight concern before he resumed his indifferent facial expression. John hid a smile at this.

           “No! No Sherlock! Just because you were able to follow _this_ time and detain the killer doesn’t make it ok. You do this again and you might not have a friend to save!” Greg yelled.

           “Greg really, it’s fine.” John piped up.

           “Don’t encourage his behavior! I don’t understand how a sensible man like you allows him to get away with this!” Greg turned to him eyes blazing.

            “Well one it was the only way we were liable to catch him and two it was my idea for me to be bait.” John admitted watching the Inspector’s face turn even redder.

            “You WHAT? You volunteered??? No I don’t believe it. Stop covering for him John!” Greg chastised.

            “I’m really not. Sherlock planned on being the one to go home with the madman but I didn’t think he could pull of seducing the killer as well as I could.” John chuckled watching Sherlock scowl and Greg deflate as he took in this information.

            “You two are going to be the death of me I swear.” Greg groaned running his hands through his hair in agitation before laughing heartily. “Sherlock was going to seduce him? Oh yea I don’t see that working out.”

            “No me neither.” John chuckled as Sherlock’s scowl deepened. “He’s great with flirting simply to get what he wants but beyond that I don’t think he would be able to keep up the pretense without insulting them with some observation or another.”

            “I’m sure that I would have had no trouble at all with it.” Sherlock grumbled drawling another laugh from Greg.

            “Yea well even so, you two have got to stop going off for the killer on your own.” Greg insisted.

            “Sure sure.” John replied knowing full well Sherlock would never stop running headlong into danger. He stood, the medic having finally finished, and took his usual place by Sherlock. “So statements tomorrow as usual?” He inquired.

            “Yea yea. Don’t forget!” Greg warned as they walked away.

 

 

 

            Sherlock was quiet the entire way home stewing over John and Lestrade laughing at the idea of him seducing someone. He flopped down on the sofa when he entered 221B and pointedly ignored John when he asked about food. He retreated to his mind palace roused only when something was thrown at him.

            “Sherlock!” John called to him. “Stop sulking and eat, I got your favorite from that thai place down the road.”

            “I am not sulking!” He shot back making his way to the kitchen.

            “You are. Now should I assume it’s about the usual? You being bored because the case is over? Or is this something else entirely?” John asked dishing out the food as Sherlock sat. Sherlock continued to ignore John and began to eat his meal.

            “Sherlock.” John warned.

            “I am merely trying to come to the same conclusion that you and Lestrade have about how I am incapable of seducing anyone.” Sherlock huffed shoveling more food down.

            “Sherlock that is not what I meant by my comment at all.” John said looking up from his plate.

            “Really what _did_ you mean?” Sherlock scoffed.

            “Do I think you would have been rubbish at seducing the killer, yes I do” John paused when Sherlock sniffed. “But I did not say that you would be rubbish at seducing everyone. I think for you, you would have to actually feel some attraction and probably know them a bit better than a random bloke on the street for it to work. Otherwise I think, as I stated earlier, you would get to caught up making deductions about them and inevitably offending them rather than seducing.”

            Sherlock considered this before replying.

            “What makes you draw that conclusion?” Sherlock asked less irritated and more curious at this point.

            “Well look at all of your other relationships.” John stated.

            “I haven’t been in a relationship since University John, and you certainly have no knowledge of it.” Sherlock replied confused.

            “No I mean your non-romantic relationships. Take you and Lestrade for example. You actually respect and like him, despite your comments otherwise, hence you aren’t as rude to him as you are to others and sometimes your snide ‘idiot’ sounds more fond than irritated. Occasionally you ask him how he is and you actually mean it.” John pauses taking a sip of water. “I have seen you interact with witnesses and you don’t pull it off as nearly as well. You ask the same sort of questions you would Greg but there is a clear fakeness behind it. You seem polite when you ask how they are but it’s clear there is no feeling behind it, with Greg there is because you do actually care. With smaller cases and interrogations the fakeness isn’t usually a problem because you don’t interact with them long enough for them to catch on. With this man you would have to have interacted longer and maintained the charade all the way back to his flat. I doubt you could have suppressed your natural self quite that long. Not to mention if you were seducing someone you already had some sort of relationship you wouldn’t be caught up deducing their whole life story because you would already know it so you would be able to focus on the actual seducing part. ” John finished smiling slightly.

            Sherlock ate quietly considering this. John made some good points, not that Sherlock would actually admit to them of course. John stood taking his plate to the sink laughing quietly.

            “If you ever do find someone you want a relationship with again I pity the bastard you try to seduce.” John chuckled as he began to wash his dish. Sherlock stood, leaving his plate for John to take care of and made his way back to the sofa smiling.

            Oh if only John knew.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I should probably note that I am going to completely ignore the blind banker case. Hope that doesn't burst anyone's bubble. 
> 
> So what do you think?


	8. Sherlock Gets Clued In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds out yet another thing about John that he didn't know and John struggles to curb his attraction to Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the longer than average wait for this!!! I had a few family things crop up that took some time away from my normal schedule. In addition to that this chapter took me a while to pin down exactly what I wanted to happen. There *shouldn't* be as long of a wait for the next installment. :)

 

 

            John sighed and paced the room again. Sherlock needed to get here soon; John was rather tired of waiting. John slid down the wall and stared at the small chamber. He had told Sherlock that insulting the local drug lord was a bad idea. Sherlock had ignored him of course and so the criminals had retaliated. Unfortunately for John they had kidnapped the wrong person. John chuckled, how they could confuse him for the lanky detective was beyond him. John estimated it had been maybe a week or so; it was hard to tell due to the lack of light.

            The criminals didn’t seem to be all that concerned in hurting him really, just scaring him. Sherlock’s last case had put them working along side the drug dealers oddly enough. A string of deaths all linked by a mysterious drug overdose had prompted Sherlock to ask around his old sources for information. After a week of careful investigation Sherlock had proved that the drug dealers were not at fault, someone had tampered with their supply. Unfortunately Sherlock had allowed a few of the criminals to be picked up by Scotland Yard in the process not to mention insulting Hobb, the ‘boss’ as the lower criminals had called him, multiple times. The minions who had taken John had made it clear that while Hobb was grateful for the problem being taken care of he also had felt that Sherlock needed a lesson in manners, hence the kidnapping.

            John had been left alone since they had brought him here, an underground bomb shelter if he had to guess. There was a blanket, a small light and a bucket as well as a bit of bread and water. John hadn’t been harmed really, just severely pissed off. Sherlock hopefully would have noted his absence by now and John could only pray that someone would let him out soon. He was tired of this room, tired of having nothing to do and most of all he was tired of thinking. John had had entirely too much time to think and brood over his flatmate.

            Sherlock had become increasingly uncomfortable to live with the past month and surprisingly enough it was not due to the crazy experiments that made John feel this way. John had thought Sherlock’s dismissal of personal boundaries could get no worse but boy had he been wrong. Sherlock had begun brushing past John in the kitchen rather intimately lately. Each time John had collected himself and glared at Sherlock, who seemed oblivious to his intrusion. Sherlock had also apparently decided that clothes were now optional in the flat, social norms be damned. For John this had made going about his daily activities ten times harder because no matter how many times he saw Sherlock wrapped in a sheet or in his bathrobe barely closed with naught on underneath John would never get used to it. Every time he had to fight the urge to stare openly and lasciviously at his attractive friend. What was more unsettling was the fact that anytime John had taken a shower lately Sherlock had barged in on a quest for some item or another not even bothering to knock. John was at his wits end to be honest. The only thing that had relaxed the situation was the cases, which kept Sherlock occupied enough for him to ignore everything, John included. The days in between the cases however now had John as much on edge as Sherlock.

            Frankly John wasn’t sure how much longer he could live with Sherlock without doing something that would undoubtedly end their friendship. In his week of solitude he had given himself a number of stern lectures. Sherlock had made it clear he didn’t do relationships. If John couldn’t control his feelings his relationship with Sherlock and the life he had come to love so much would probably come to a screeching halt and as difficult and uncomfortable living with Sherlock had become, John did not want to lose it. Sighing again John closed his eyes. Perhaps sleep would make time go by faster.

 

 

 

 

            “John!”

            John vaguely heard the door of his chamber slam open and hurried footsteps. He felt hands on his side, assessing him. John opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the sleepiness. Sherlock was crouched by his side, his eyes full of concern raking over John’s face and body.

            “I’m alright Sherlock. What took you so long? I was beginning to die of boredom.” John mumbled, his speech still garbled from sleep. Sherlock smiled at this and helped John to sit up.

            “I would have been sooner but whoever took you left no hint as to where you were taken. Not even a ransom.” Sherlock explained looking rather put out.

            “Well considering that wasn’t the motive I am not surprised.” John smiled slightly.

            “What do you mean?” Sherlock questioned.

            “It was Hobb’s men. The whole point was to teach you manners. They thought I was you when they took me.” John snorted. “Not the brightest lot. I think they thought the great Sherlock Holmes would have worked his way out by now.”

            “It seems I need to have a word with Hobbs.” Sherlock frowned at this.

            “No Sherlock. I expressly forbid you to offend any more drug lords.” John glared at him. “Now please, Let’s go home yeah?”

            Sherlock huffed and moved back to allow John room to get up. John hobbled to his feet and moved around Sherlock to the door ignoring the other armed men that had entered with Sherlock. John was dimly aware of his surroundings as he made his way out of the bunker. Stopping only when he was at the door.

            “John?” He heard Sherlock from behind him.

           “Just waiting for my eyes to adjust a little Sherlock. This much light is making it a bit hard to see at the moment.” He explained. Sherlock put an arm around John’s shoulders and led him forward at this statement. John allowed himself to be led, his thirst for real food and comfort outweighing his dislike of being coddled.

            By the time Sherlock had ushered him into a car his eyesight had recovered enough for him to focus on Sherlock. He looked around at the posh car and raised his eyebrows at Sherlock in question.

           “Mycroft.” Sherlock scoffed and John simply nodded at this. “I’m going to owe him a favor for this. I hate owing him favors.”

           “Well next time don’t piss off drug lords Sherlock.” John replied with a smirk.

            “I still think I will have a word with Hobbs.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes looking John over once more.

            “I’m fine. Completely unharmed.” John tried to reassure him.

            “John, you have lost almost a stone.” Sherlock scoffed.

            “Surely not! I was only in there for what five days six?” John looked down at himself.

            “Um…More like ten days.” Sherlock winced. “I didn’t realize something was wrong for the first two days..”

            Not surprising John thought. John had once gone on a medical conference to Scotland for four days and Sherlock hadn’t even noticed.

            “It’s fine Sherlock. I’m fine.” John said leaning his head back on the seat and closing his eyes. “So what do you think Mycroft will have you do for his help?”

            “Something tedious no doubt.” Sherlock sneered. John chuckled at this and listened as Sherlock explained how he had come to find John.

            Well whatever Mycroft made Sherlock do John sincerely hoped that it was tedious and time consuming. John could use some time in 221B all to himself.

 

 

 

            It was a whole week before Mycroft showed up. John had made it downstairs one morning to find the two Holmes brothers involved in a rather intense staring contest. Sherlock had neglected to dress properly once again. His blue bathrobe gaped to reveal his shirtless chest. John quickly looked at Mycroft instead.

            “Mornin’ ” John said simply moving to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

             When he returned with three cups of tea a short time later neither Sherlock nor Mycroft had moved. After distributing the tea John sat back in his chair and looked from one to the other.

            “So I assume you are here to collect on your favor?” John asked sipping his hot tea carefully. “How long will Sherlock be away this time?”

            “It’s not me he wants.” Sherlock stated after a while.

            “What?” John looked at Sherlock in surprise. “What does that mean?”

           “It seems he wants to collect his favor by requiring your services.” Sherlock explained. “I explained that seeing as I was the one to demand his help you should not have suffer for it.”

           John blinked at Sherlock’s statement. That was rather thoughtful for Sherlock, John thought with surprise.

          “You neglected to specify the parameters of the favor you traded for my help brother mine.” Mycroft drawled. John looked over at Mycroft and glared at his smug expression.

          “Fine.” He said after a long while. John was fairly sure he knew where this was going and if Mycroft was so determined it was really easier to just agree at this point. With any luck Sherlock would still be oblivious to Mycroft’s true reasons.

         “Well he agreed Mycroft! Hurry and take him to patch up whatever agent you have gotten injured and let him return here. We have cases to attend to.” Sherlock growled.

          “If that was what I wanted him for I would. John you will need to plan for a week or two away.” Mycroft stated with a smirk at his brother.

          “Why would you need him if not to patch up someone?” Sherlock demanded. Mycroft, ignoring him, stood and handed a thick file over to John.

           John opened the file and began to read what the mission was. He looked over the a few pages and gathered that it was a basic information retrieval operation. Seemed simple enough, finding a decent cover might be a bit of work however. John looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock was staring at John, his face a mixture of irritation and confusion. Well there went any hope of keeping Sherlock in the dark. John looked over at Mycroft who was waiting by the door.

            “One condition Mycroft. Sherlock comes to.” John said watching Mycroft carefully. Mycroft narrowed his eyes in thought, clearly adverse to the idea. “You know he will not rest until he knows. If you had wanted to keep him out of it you should not have hinted that it was something other than my medical skills that you needed. But sense you couldn’t resist the urge to rub it in his face that you know something he does not you will have to let him come along. Unless of course you want your brother to waltz in and potentially comprise the project.” John explained with a smirk. Mycroft frowned and finally nodded his agreement.

            “I will leave you to collect what you need. I have already arranged for your time off. Try not to be all day about it. ” Mycroft sniffed before heading downstairs.

            “John. Explain.” Sherlock demanded. John looked over at him and suppressed a chuckle. Sherlock looked like a disgruntled toddler who had just had to share his toys for the first time. Sighing John closed the folder Mycroft had given him and leaned forward in his chair.

          “Now there are some things I will never be able to explain fully but I’ll divulge what I can. While in the army I did much more than patch men up. For a few years I was with the UKSF. And don’t get in a strop about Mycroft knowing before you. Trust me it took him longer than he would probably like to admit to get the full records of what I was involved in.” John chuckled at Sherlock’s shocked expression.

          “Which branch of the UKSF?” Sherlock asked after a while. 

          “Well I spent a bit of time in the SRR before I was moved to work in the SAS. That is actually how I got sent home. The last mission I was sent out on went south and a number of us were injured.” John explained patiently waiting for Sherlock’s inevitable question.

         “Why?” Sherlock demanded.

         “Why what Sherlock?” John waited, he knew what was coming.

         “Why would they recruit an Army doctor for the Special Reconnaissance Regiment or the Special Air Service for that matter?” Sherlock exclaimed.

         “Sherlock I have more skills than just my medical ones.” John chided. “My marksmen ship record and IQ level is what first put me under there radar I expect. And before you say anything, no my IQ is not as high as yours but it is well above average. Not to mention I tested the highest in my squadron for operations planning and diversionary tactics. After a few years in the field they approached me about joining.” John finished and smiled smugly at Sherlock’s surprised expression. John stood and headed to the kitchen leaving Sherlock to gather his wits about him once more. John placed his mug in the sink thinking through a list of things he needed to pack.

          “Why were you hiding it?” Sherlock asked from the doorway.

          “Well as I said before there are some things that I can never divulge to you. Rather than deal with you constantly trying to draw them out I just neglected to mention any of it. After all much of what I was involved in requires an extremely high clearance level. When I was discharged I was instructed to explain my injury as something that was received as a simple army doctor out in the field. Believe me I would not be telling you now if your brother had not butted in.”

          “He does have a habit of sticking his abnormally large nose where it doesn’t belong.” Sherlock snorted.

          “That’s the curse of older siblings I expect.” John chuckled. “Now I believe we ought to pack, unless of course you plan on staying here.”

          “Oh no, I am no missing out on this. Besides it will piss off my brother to no end.” Sherlock stalked into his room and began to gather his things.

           John trudged up the stairs to pack his own things. At least they had a case of sorts to deal with, although dodging probing questions from Sherlock was going to get rather tiresome.

           By the time John made it back downstairs with his duffle Sherlock was dressed and waiting by the stairs. He had on the purple button up that drove John crazy and some expensive slacks. When John appeared Sherlock headed down to the waiting car. John followed trying to ignore the perfect fit of Sherlock’s trousers around his backside that John was presented with from behind. This was going to be a long assignment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I had originally planned for way less plot and a jump start on the smut but well..... plot things got away from me and here we are.  
> For those of you waiting for Sherlock's seduction trust me....it's still coming. :)  
> The next chapter will continue directly where this one left off only entirely from Sherlock's perspective.
> 
> Also I am american so all the knowledge I have the the british army and special forces has been taken directly from the internet as well as made up where it is convenient for me to do so.


End file.
